Galadwen's Gift
by BelieveToBecome
Summary: Galadriel's illegitimate daughter must embrace her gift to succeed in a quest to protect a hobbit and what he carries in his pocket. But with no life skills, she must first learn to protect herself before she can help anyone else.
1. Chapter 1 - Beyond the Void

_Author's Notes: OK, unlike my story, I will strive to keep this short. First off, thanks for reading! I'm so stoked you've taken the time to do so. It means a lot. Second, I'm new to sharing my work, so any thoughts or constructive comments are appreciated. Thirdly, please be warned this is an epic and may take me a while to finish, but I will do my best to not keep you waiting. Finally, the disclaimer: the characters and places that you know from Tolkien and the movies is their respective intellectual property. The rest is mine. Happy reading._

 **Chapter 1 - Beyond the Void**

It was dark, even to her keen elven eyes. Not the dark of the deepest night, where the stars' faint light illuminates the land in a silver beauty. Nor the dark of a starless night, with rain pattering gently through the high canopy of the Mallorn trees. The soft sounds giving life and light to the darkness beneath. No, Galadwen thought. This dark was the absolute, complete, darkness of nothing. A void. Where all senses felt blind in this place of nothing. Nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to touch, and nothing to feel. The end of everything.

Every vision into the future ended at this void. But Galadwen could not and would not accept that this was the only possibility. She had to believe there was more to the future than the death and horrors that always lead to the void. What was the point of her gift if there was no other way? What was the point of life if it was to end in so much pain and fear? Galadwen knew the answers to her questions were as intangible as the void. But she had refused to accept it. Not yet. She still had hope.

In a place where you did not breath, Galadwen took a deep breath and turned around. It was not so much a physical turning, as direction was as non-existent in the void as everything else. It was a turn in her mind, as she focused back towards the present. She felt time slip back like a gentle breeze across her conscious. The breeze grew stronger as she picked up speed, flying back in time. It was a long journey back. She had gone further into the void than she'd ever dared before.

The nothingness of the void scared her. Every previous time she reached it, she'd stopped. But after years of searching the endless possibilities of the future, only to find they had all lead to the same void, Galadwen had hoped that perhaps there would be something on the other side of the void. As her mother kept telling her, "all things must come to an end". That same theory should have applied to the void. Even if there was no Middle Earth, there should be something. Before the beginning of time, when Ilúvatar created life he filled the void. She did not know what that void had been like, but surely Ilúvatar had not abandoned them. She did not expect to meet Ilúvatar, for to meet the creator was beyond the privileges of any but the Valar. Although there was some hope or distant thought that she hardly admitted to herself, that perhaps she may find the Valar, and they will again create what had once been.

So instead of stopping at the void like she usually did. Galadwen had fought back the terror of the nothingness and kept travelling forward. It was hard to tell time in the void, with the only marker being how far she felt from the present. At first, she'd travelled about a century, but the void was still the only thing that existed. Then she travelled another century. Then another, and still there was no change to the complete nothingness. She travelled forward more centuries than she could keep count of, and still, there was nothing. At first, she had kept going out of determination. As her mind became used to the terror of the void, it was almost hypnotic. Then when the void continued in its nothingness, the panic started to take over. It started with an idle thought of doubt, like a single drop of water that bursts open the floodgates. Maybe there would be none of the Valar left. The void was the permanent end of everything. As the panic poured into her mind, Galadwen picked up speed, trying to leave it behind. But it chased her further into the void. Until, in her mental exhaustion, it caught her, filling her soul with despair. The darkness in her mind rivalled that of the void as she struggled to think rationally.

Too absorbed in her mental battle Galadwen continued moving forward in time. If this was all there was, then would it not be better to escape the pain and fear that was to come and let her conscious mind be lost in the void forever? She slowed her rush forward. The link to her body in the present was so faint now that another rush forward would be the end of it. She didn't know what would happen. Would it snap and be broken forever? Or perhaps it would fade out so she'd lose it. Either way, she would no longer have any sense of direction and no way to pull herself through time. She would be effectively paralyzed in the void for eternity. The fear of that possibility was enough to make her stop short.

Pain and fear may be a worse end than this, but it wasn't a void in the present yet. So until it was, there was hope. No matter how small. But even if there was no hope, there were still others she could save and help, even for a little while. As her mother was fond of saying, "we must do what we can with the gifts we are given." She had a gift, and although she was yet to find a way to save Middle Earth, there were many she could still help, even a little. And there was still time. She had anywhere between 2 to about 100 years before all the light was gone. As she travelled the long journey back to the present, Galadwen felt her determination set in. She would find a way.

When she finally arrived back to within a month of the present, Galadwen noticed another path that was brighter than she'd seen it before. The brighter the path, the more likely it was to happen. This change had taken place while she'd been in the void. Galadwen idly wondered how much time had passed in the present while she'd been in the void. But time wasn't as constant as most believed. Particularly in her mother's realm. The great Lady of Light had her reasons to adjust the passage of time within her realm. But she rarely shared them, particularly with her bastard daughter.

Galadwen knew that her mother Galadriel loved her dearly, like a mother should love her child. She just couldn't acknowledge her as her daughter or show any affection in public. Galadriel had broken the unbreakable rules of high elven society. It wasn't the first time she'd broken unbreakable rules. The first time had resulted in her ban from ever returning to the undying lands of Valinor. But this time had resulted in her being forbidden to acknowledge her daughter. It caused a pain that Galadwen could see in her mother's eyes every time they spoke. Although she knew her view was biased, Galadwen believed this to be an unfair punishment. It punished the daughter as well as the mother. But Galadwen already knew life was unfair. Even in the fairest of elven realms in Middle Earth.

The rules and ways of elven society, as adopted from their homeland Valinor, were so important to the elves, that they would rather punish Galadwen for existing than forgo the rules. Galadwen felt anger rising at the thought and pushed it down. She could not feel anger or hatred, for her mother's sake. Her mother was the only one in Lothlorien who could read the minds of others, but there were those who could read emotions. One such was her mother's husband Celeborn, co-leader and Lord of Lothlorien. He was a great leader, a very forgiving and understanding husband, and he had been kind to Galadwen, as much as society allowed. But if he sensed any hatred from her, he would be forced to exile her from Lothlorien, even knowing the extreme pain it would cause his wife. So with a calming breath, Galadwen banished the anger and took the new path.

The new path was made by the now likely choice of a wizard to help a dwarf in a quest to claim back his ancestral homeland. Galadwen recognised this wizard as Mithrandir, known to many as Gandalf the Grey. She had made a point to follow the possible decisions of the leaders of men, elves, and dwarves and also the wizards who advised these leaders. She believed these people would be the ones that could bring change and build a resistance strong enough to fight back the darkness. The wizards she followed even closer than the others. That was for a personal reason rather than a desire to fight the darkness.

Her mother would never talk of her father, but over the years, Galadwen had gathered the tiniest of hints and suggestions. Like a dragon collecting small coins of gold over a millennium to build up her greatest treasure. She stored them away deep down, to muse over in the quiet. But like a dragon, she would never be satisfied with her treasure, she always needed more. From the round shape of her own ears, Galadwen knew her father to not be elven. And from the hints Nestor had unknowingly dropped, she had deduced that he had spent time in Valinor. Thus he must be one of the wizards, who had all spent time studying under different masters there. She knew Gandalf had studied in Lorine, the homeland of Galadriel, but her mother knew all the wizards. Although Galadriel had met with the wizards on many different occasions, she had never allowed Galadwen to meet them. But from her travels through the future, Galadwen had learnt a lot about each one by the decisions they made. Each decision was part of a pattern around that person. She had learnt to see and read the patterns to understand what type of people they were. She found that Gandalf had the purest heart of any she had followed. So deep down Galadwen hoped that one day she would meet Gandalf and know for sure.

She spent a long time searching this new branch of Gandalf's. It was going to be a large group on this quest. When more people are involved, there are more choices and thus more possible paths. So many of the paths ended in disaster and ended in the death of most of the group. There was a very faint path that was hardly visible to Galadwen. It was an unusual person, shorter than a dwarf, and slighter of frame. Like a child, but with large feet. This halfling seemed unlikely to join the group, but if he did, the survival of the group and success of the quest significantly increased.

Galadwen was curious about this halfling and his power to affect the outcome of the group so drastically. His presence seemed to have the same effect as Gandalf's. So she searched his possible paths to find the reason for unlikely power. In the endless possibilities, Galadwen eventually found the hinge on which so much rested. It was all in a magical ring and a riddle contest with a strange underground creature with a twisted heart. But there was something about this ring that tugged at Galadwen. It had the power to make the halfling invisible, but she could sense there was a lot more to it than that. It had a great and terrible power. It wasn't easy but she followed the path of the ring. It almost seemed to sense her and hide from her as she followed the choices of others. She'd never experienced anything like that. Her conscious mind wanted to flee, but she resisted and kept searching.

She spent a long time following the many different possibilities to understand the patterns around the ring. It seemed to influence those around it, bring out the worst in them. Except, she saw very little of that influence on the halfling. The ring still seemed to hide its future from her. The path of the ring, whenever it came into the hands of orcs or men were often dark. Like a shadow was cast over them. She could make out very little along these paths. When she reached the void the shadow turned to absolute dark. Except now in this dark, Galadwen felt like she was being watched. In the dark, it felt as if the ring stopped hiding from her and started watching her. It was as if the void was the rings domain, where the hunted became the hunter. She shied away from entering the void, fearing to enter.

Then in one trip to the edge of the void, Galadwen saw a flash of red in the corner of her vision. But when she turned, there was only the absolute dark of nothing. She would have thought her mind was playing tricks on her if it wasn't for the lingering strong sense of death. For lack of a better description, it was like a bad smell. Putrid, festering, death that clawed at her senses. It terrified her. She fled back to the present to steady her nerves before continuing her mission to study the ring.

With the halfling, the ring would try to betray him, often leading to his death. If it succeeded, the ring would then find its way into the hands of the orcs or men. Galadwen followed the many possible paths of this ring. It brought the death and destruction on quicker than she'd ever seen. Except when it stayed in the hands of the halfling. The world would be safer if the ring stayed with him. For a time at least, and time was what she needed. She understood that if the halfling went on this quest and discovered the ring, he could not be allowed to die. She needed to keep searching, to understand as much as she could. But at that moment, she noticed the link to her body was very faint, like that when she was deep in the void, on the brink of being lost for eternity.

A fear gripped her as she abandoned her searching and raced back in time to her body. She reached and pulled herself towards her body. The faintness of her connection made her frantic with fear, giving more speed to her flight. Although her connection was faint, it was close. Closer than she'd expected. More time must have slipped by in the present than she'd realised. Her conscious mind slammed into her body with a gasp as a pain so intense drove every thought from her mind. She would have screamed if she could, but every muscle was locked in place as if her body was in rigor mortis. Panic started to overtake the pain as Galadwen's eye's shot open. They tried to focus on the blurry image of a woman leaning over her. Although her eyes failed her, Galadwen instantly recognised the woman by her smell. That fresh earthy smell of damp moss after a morning rain.

"Nestor," she tried to say, but it only came out as a groan.

"Shhh, quiet child," Nestor replied. "Don't speak. Lie still and save your strength."

Confused, Galadwen forced down the panic and fear and did as she was told. She focused on her body, finding it malnourished, dehydrated and in incredible pain. Galadwen wanted to shrink back from the pain and flee to the future, but with determination, she faced down the pain. It was coming from her left shoulder. Her body was injured, but not just physically. She could feel death spreading from her shoulder as poison reached for her heart. But it was being pushed back by another force. She could feel Nestor's fingers on her forehead as she stroked her long dark hair while quietly singing under her breath. Galadwen listened to the words of healing, strength, and life, as she felt Nestor's healing halt the poison a mere fraction from her heart. A mere fraction from death. Then as the night wore on, Nestor started to push the poison back.

Galadwen's vision returned with the dawning of the new day, but she still lay motionless as Nestor continued her healing. Nestor, with her long golden hair streaked with grey, held off her face by the thin band of mithril crowning her brow. She leaned over Galadwen, her grey eyes were closed in a face that projected grace and strength. It was a fair face, like all elves, but unlike any other's Galadwen had seen, Nestor's face showed lines of age. She was one of the oldest elves in Middle Earth. She had been almost 9000 years old before she left Valinor for Middle Earth. Although elves are immortal, most eventually grow weary of living this life and choose to pass on to the next. But not Nestor. She was the oldest elf to ever leave the homeland. She had come at the making of the rings of power but had refused a ring herself. Instead, she was content to serve and advise those with the rings. Only the other elves would heed her advice, and of those, Galadriel had been the most willing to listen. That was until Galadwen's conception. Something had happened between them, because as long as Galadwen could remember, Galadriel had always looked upon Nestor with icy eyes. She treated her with polite respect, but there was no friendliness there. Galadwen found it hard to believe the stories of when they had been the closest of friends and confidants.

In regards to herself, Galadwen had found the only elf in all of Lothlorien who would openly show her affection. Since birth, Nestor had been the one to care for her, guide her and love her. She was like a grandmother to Galadwen. It wasn't until Galadwen had reached womanhood and her visions started did Galadriel even talk with her. And then it was only secret meetings in the hours before dawn, in a private glade far from the centre of Lothlorien. She still remembered the terrified feeling of waiting in the cool starless night in the deep shadows of the largest mallorn tree on the edge of the glade for the Lady of Light, her mother. She had not slept for days beforehand, too nervous but also too terrified of the visions. She had spent most of the night huddled in her cloak, getting strength from the huge trunk at her back. She'd been so scared of being late that she'd arrived just after midnight.

Then when Galadriel had arrived, a silver light in the dark night, she had not expected the warm embrace nor the love and pain she'd seen in her mother's eyes. They had sat together under the tree, holding hands and talking telepathically. Her mother's gift of seeing into the minds of others and speaking to them that way was something Galadwen had only heard about until that night. Experiencing it for herself under that tree was like someone ripping the lid off her mind and leaving her soul exposed for interrogation. But Galadriel's words in her mind had only been of kindness, regret and sorrow. Galadwen had discovered another side to the fair Lady of Light. She had discovered a soft kindness and tender love for the daughter she could never acknowledge.

As Galadwen lay still, she listened to the world around her. Her elven hearing allowed her to hear the others nearby, warriors by the sound of their lithe movement. Five of them, in the trees surrounding her and Nestor. The mist of the dawn cleared, and sunlight streamed through breaks in the canopy of the mallorn trees far above them. Galadwen listened to the insects rustling in the undergrowth and the flutter of a bird's wings as it flew by. As the sun neared its zenith Nestor finally stopped her singing. She leaned back with a weary sigh, but a hand remained protectively on Galadwen's forehead. The dull ache of the wound was still throbbing insistently in her shoulder, but the intense pain of the poison was now completely gone. Although with the crippling pain now gone her body felt completely drained of all its energy. Just to breathe was a struggle as she forced her chest to expand for every breath.

"What happened Nestor?" she asked with a raspy voice.

"Shhh child, you must let your body rest," she said. "Here take a sip." Nestor held a water skin to her lips and tipped it slowly. Galadwen felt the warm sweet liquid go down her throat. The elvish sweet wine tasted like a warm summer evening bursting full of golden light. It warmed her soul and restored some life to her body. "We'll talk soon child," Nestor said as she pulled the wineskin away. "But for now we must get you to safety."

Galadwen could hear the warriors moving closer. "Safety?"

"Yes child, I promise I'll answer your questions later," Nestor said with a kind smile.

As the five warriors came into view, Galadwen saw they weren't just warriors. Under their blue cloaks, they wore the silver armour of her mother's Royal Guard. They all held spears, had long curved swords at their waists and strung bows over their backs. Even after half a day of standing guard, their tense posture and continuously moving eyes showed they were alert and ready for action. An ant would not have moved without them knowing about it. Two of the guards tied a cloak between their staves and laid it down beside Galadwen. Then ever so gently, the taller of the guards, lifted her onto the makeshift litter. Galadwen was too exhausted to notice anything more than his copper hair that glowed like bronze in the morning sun.

The two guards lifted the litter and Galadwen watched the canopy pass overhead as they set off at a steady but gentle pace. She could hear the other guards walking quietly through the undergrowth some distance to her left and right and behind them. Nestor walked beside the litter, holding her hand as if to reassure herself that Galadwen was still alive.

By late afternoon they reached the centre of Lothlorien, and the elven city of Caras Galadhon, with the mallorn trees as tall as mountains. Although she'd just been lying on the litter, Galadwen's body felt so fatigued after the travel, she thought it was on the brink of failure.

"They dare not take you up into our tree child so one of the mirror glade guest rooms has been prepared for you," Nestor said.

Galadwen didn't have the energy to reply so blinked in acknowledgement. But once closed, her eyelids refused to open again. Her body barely had enough energy left to keep her heart beating. Each slow laboured breath was a test in her determination to live. She couldn't die without doing something useful with her gift, otherwise, a childhood of loneliness and an adulthood of searching the future would have been for nothing. She wouldn't let the pains of a child be for nothing.

Suddenly the world stopped moving as Galadwen's almost lifeless body was laid on soft moss. The moss felt warm to her skin, but Galadwen suspected it was only warm relative to her cool body temperature as she clung to life.

"Stay strong Galadwen," came a voice in her mind. Her mother's voice, so tender and gentle and full of love. "It will be over soon." She felt her head being lifted and something was trickled down her throat. It was less than a mouthful, but it felt like life itself. It was the comfort of lying in the sun, absorbing its energy, while simultaneously the shock of being suddenly submerged in freezing water. She gasped as the elixir of life flowed through her body, tensing every muscle. Her heart started beating faster and faster until it was moving to the beat of a bumblebee's wing. Then radiating out from her heart, every muscle started to twitch and every nerve started to burn. Only slightly at first, but the twitches quickly grew until her whole body was shaking in an uncontrollable fit and she felt as if she was being shaken apart. The intensity of the fit came in waves. Each peak was worse than the last. The intense pain from her burning nerves rivalled that of the poison.

Finally, the shaking started to ease, and each wave of pain was less than the last. Her mind and body were numb with shock.

"Rest now daughter," came her mother's voice in her empty mind. "It's over." With those last two words, Galadwen felt the oblivion of true sleep overtaking her, something she hadn't felt in years.

Galadwen woke to find herself on a sleeping mat in a guest room. The mallorn tree's smooth silver bark on the curved walls and ceiling, reflected the dim light coming through the open arch. Galadwen sat up, resting against the wall as her head spun and her vision reduced to two small dots. Her body felt weak. Alive and healthy, but weak. There was only the slightest ache from her shoulder. As her vision cleared, Galadwen inspected the wound to find a fresh pink scar. She noticed her clothes had been changed. Dressed now in only a full length plain white slip of a thick but soft floating material. Galadwen was not a seamstress or a craftswoman of any kind, but she knew from the weave of this material that it was the rare cloth used for the injured and dying. It regulated body temperature and encouraged healing. To be wearing something that was only used on the most dire or urgent of occasions, Galadwen realised she had been closer to death than she feared.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, she looked towards the open arch. Galadwen recognised the footsteps as those of Nestor a moment before she walked through the arch.

Upon seeing Galadwen leaning against the wall, Nestor's face broke into a beautiful smile.

"Oh child, to see you awake brings me the happiness of a thousand Yestares," Nestor beamed. She took Galadwen's hands in her own and kissed them.

"Mam," Galadwen said, her affectionate name for Nestor, and gave her hands a squeeze. "I think I owe you a life debt."

"Nonsense sweet child, there is no such debt among family." Galadwen smiled at her kindness. Nestor was no blood relation, but she'd been the only parent, in the practical sense, that Galadwen had ever known.

"Tell me, what happened?" Galadwen asked.

"I will tell all I know, but while I do so, you must eat and drink," Nestor said. She stood back up and collected a jug, mug, and a plate piled high with food from a table near the entrance. She passed the plate and mug to Galadwen. Then filled the mug with sweet wine before setting the jug down next to her. Galadwen shuffled over to give Nestor room on the bedroll beside her.

Nestor settled down, her long, early dawn blue robe spread out around her. Galadwen took a sip of the sweet wine and Nestor started her story. Although she was starving, she was even hungrier for information.

"I'm used to you disappearing for a few days at a time to go do your dreaming in one obscure spot or another. But when you didn't return after five days I began to worry. On the 7th day without any sight of you, I told Galadriel. Anyone would have been forgiven for thinking Sauron himself had entered Lothlorien with the way she reacted. We were afraid that you'd become lost in your dreams or worse yet, something had happened to your body while you slept. Galadriel slowed the time here to preserve your body while she sent all the available army to comb through the forest looking for you.

"The sun came and went three times in Lothlorien and still there was no sign of you. I believe outside these lands three weeks passed. Then on the third night, a horde of orcs entered the southern boundary of Lothlorien forest." Nestor must have seen the shock on her face. "Yes child, orcs entered the lands of Lothlorien, for the first time since Sauron's defeat. It put more fear into our hearts for your safety. Galadriel was speaking with the forest to discover your location. Unfortunately, the army was scattered throughout the forest looking for you, so we couldn't mount an attack and drive them off immediately. Instead, those who had been scouting nearby kept watch on the orcs while a company was mobilised.

"The orcs were reported to be travelling at a crazed pace, but strangely, they didn't seem to be aiming for Caras Galadhon. Instead, they were travelling further north. With speed, a company was mobilised and set off to encircle the orcs. Then our Lady discovered your location from scout reports, which was directly in line with the orcs' path. Fearing for your safety, she sent me out with her own guards to bring you back safely. I suspect she may have known that you were to be injured, or why else ask me to go. The orcs got to you just before the army got to them. They got one shot in before the army drove them off and picked them off one by one.

"Fate must have been on your side child, as the orcs had missed your heart by a finger width. I arrived just in time to stop the poison from entering your heart and at which time you came back to your body. It was a very close call for a while there. Especially since your body was so malnourished, it was already in a state of weakness before you were injured. Then you slept for days. I was starting to worry you would never wake up. But here you are."

Nestor squeezed her hand again. "So tell me, child, what kept you away for so long? What did you find?"

"I tried to find the end of the void," she said with a sigh. "I travelled so far forward that I nearly lost the connection to the present. But still, there was nothing but void. If it comes to pass, it will never end. It will be the end of everything, forever." Nestor looked sad like she always did when Galadwen talked about the future. "But during the journey through the void, I discovered my inner strength Mam. I believe there is a reason for my gift. I have a purpose that I must fulfil and I know it has to do with preventing the void. I just haven't found out how yet."

"I don't doubt that you have this gift for a purpose child, but have you considered that perhaps the reason you haven't found a way to stop the void, is because you've only viewed the future, but have not used that knowledge to change anything. Until you act on the knowledge, your gift is as useful as a bow without arrows. Now I'm not saying you should go out and face down a horde of orcs or build your own army to fight off this void. Start small. If you see something bad is going to happen, like someone trips, falls, and breaks a leg. Be there to catch them. Start with a small change, or saving a single life and watch how that changes the future. Perhaps then you will see the way."

"But nothing like that happens in Lothlorien, elves don't trip."

"Exactly child. Your mother has tried to protect you from the outside world by keeping you here. But you must go live your life child and let your gift take you where it will. The last fortnight has shown Galadriel that she cannot protect you forever, and after the incident with the army and the orcs, she has lost much favour with the elves. Many see her actions as acknowledging you which would have been forgivable if in doing so, she hadn't put them all at risk. Unfortunately, child, since they cannot take their anger out on the Lady of Light, they may take it out on you. It may be best for you to leave and find those who do trip and fall."

"Leave? And go where?" The thought of leaving Lothlorien terrified and excited Galadwen. She had often thought of it, particularly as a child. She would dream of exploring the world, seeing the other elven lands and the lands of the different peoples and everything in between. But since she'd discovered her gift, she had thought of nothing other than learning to control it, and then discovering how to prevent the void.

"Wherever your gift tells you that you're needed the most child."

Galadwen thought back to her most recent searching. "I think I know where Mam, but it isn't exactly stopping a fall. On the way back from the void I found a decision to pursue a quest had been made by Mithrandir. He wants to help the dwarven ancestor of Thror, the King Under the Mountain, reclaim the Lonely Mountain. If a halfling doesn't join the quest, the company will all die, but if the halfling does join the quest, he will discover a magic ring. This ring was very strange. It seemed to know I was there, I felt like it could sense me and it didn't like my presence. The patterns around it were terrible but familiar somehow." She paused, remembering the future. "Now I think on it, the patterns reminded me of the destruction before the void, but on a smaller scale.

"This ring seems to have a huge effect on the future. If it stays in the hands of this halfling, its influence is nearly non-existent. But in the hands of others, it has the power to do great destruction, bringing the void on faster. It seems to betray the people who possess it.

"At first I was drawn to this quest because of Mithrandir," Galadwen admitted. Nestor knew of her suspicions of Mithrandir and her mother and she did nothing to sway them, although neither did she confirm them. "But now I feel like this ring could be a key to understanding and defeating the darkness."

"Child, as you know there are a limited number of rings of power in this world and even less which can influence the hearts of those around it. I fear this is a ring of darkness, perhaps one of the nine. Be careful my child. Galadriel believes that the orcs came into Lothlorien specifically in search of you. All we had were suspicions that somehow the dark forces still active in Middle Earth found out about your gift and tried to destroy you because of it. This ring may be how. You must be exceptionally careful when viewing the future around this ring. I strongly advise against it in all but the safest and secure of places. But fear not, it is now secure here. The borders are well guarded and will stay that way as long as you are here."

"How long do I have before I must leave?" Galadwen asked. Another twinge of fear and excitement flowed through her body, not unlike the elixir of life.

"As long as you announce your intention to leave, you will have as long as you need child. Your mother holds court tomorrow, so I suggest you ask her blessing to leave then. Her mother's love will mean she will want to refuse you, but she will not be able to under the eyes of the court. I know it is a lot to ask so soon after you've awoken, but it would do a lot of good to ease the tensions." Nestor paused. She seemed to be thinking of something. "I'm not telling you to go because of your mother, or because of the other elves. I'm not even telling you to go because of your gift and your purpose. I'm telling you to go, child, because it was what you dreamed about before all of this. I want you to start living your life as you always wanted, with adventure beyond this forest. But know that I will miss you dearly my child."

Galadwen thought she could see a tear sparkling in Nestor's eye. "Why don't you come with me?"

"Thank you sweet child, but no. My time is passed. As I start to feel my years, there is a longing to cross back over the sea to Valinor. I think my only journey left in Middle Earth will be to the Grey Havens. But fear not child, that journey is still some time off yet."

"Then it will be I who will miss you dearly."

"Oh sweet child, how much light you have brought to my later life." Nestor reached over and kissed her gently on the forehead. "But now that you've finished eating, you must rest. I will bring you some fresh clothes in the morning."

Galadwen could feel her body tiring already, so she lay back down on the bedroll. Sleep came to her and her mind entered the strange tangle of possible futures. Close to the present and her body, her mind had an amazing ability to travel like lightning through the possibilities. She could see so much in mere minutes, or even seconds. But the further away from the present, the slower her mind worked. So it hadn't surprised her too much when her trip through the void had lasted over a week, when in her mind it had felt like hours. She had discovered that about a week in the future from her body, time for her passed at the same speed as the present.

She took a moment to readjust her memory of the possible paths, quickly flicking through all the choices that were about to be made. Once her memory map was updated, taking only a few seconds in present time, she honed in on Gandalf. She used great effort to follow his past decisions. He had made his decision to help the descendant of the King Under the Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield as he had just met the halfling Bilbo Baggins and left a dwarven mark on his door. She followed his path to see he would return soon with the company of dwarves. From there, the future of the company would lie in the decision of the halfling. She followed the many different possibilities as they branched off. Trying to see the patterns around each of the company so she could predict their decisions. The more she studied them, the more she came to understand and even like the dwarves. She started to feel invested in their quest, wishing and hoping for them to succeed.

Once she found the patterns around the company, their most likely paths were easy to determine. So many of the paths that lead to the death of the company no longer seemed likely. She focused on those possibilities if the halfling chose to join the quest, as her desire to prevent the void still drove her decisions. Even if she set out tomorrow, the soonest she could join the company to offer her support would be in Rivendell. But her body needed time to heal and she needed to prepare for this journey. It would be her first time outside the borders and she would be going alone. There was much to learn, but less than two weeks to learn it all if she was to intersect the company. She would need the haste of a mortal to achieve it.


	2. Chapter 2 - Changes

**Chapter 2: Changes**

Having dressed in a beautiful new ice blue robe Nestor had given her, with silver pumps, and a dark blue belt that looked almost black like her hair. The buckle of the belt was an intricate Mallorn leaf made of mithril. Nestor wove a silver chain through her hair while Galadwen ate down another feast. After Nestor had given her approval, she then set off for the Great Tree with Nestor at her side. Climbing the grand stairs, Galadwen used the smooth delicate handrail to steady herself as her body struggled with the effort. She was glad that court was held on the First Landing, only a third of the way up the massive tree. A third of the way up the King of All Trees was taller than all other trees in Middle Earth, outside of Lothlorien. Or so Galadwen had been told. She knew that it was the tallest tree in Lothlorien, but having never ventured beyond the borders of the forest, she had never seen, except glimpses in her visions, trees so small. Nestor was right, it was time for her to finally see the rest of the world.

At her slow pace, they finally rounded the last corner to stand on the landing. Galadwen could see her mother over the heads of the elves who attended court. Her white blonde hair shone nearly as bright as the intricate mithril crown on her head. She sat on her throne, next to Celeborn, on the dais at the far end of the landing. It was called the First Landing, but it was more like a small amphitheatre worked into the tree's trunk. Galadriel had created it herself, by singing to the King of Trees, asking him to form to her desire.

Galadwen leaned against a pillar near the entrance to catch her breath and borrow strength from the smooth bark at her back. The new skin on her shoulder itched, but Galadwen refrained from scratching it as she listened to a Captain give a report on the border's security. She was glad to hear there had been no sightings of orcs along the border, nor from any scouts sent half a day's ride out beyond the forest. As the Captain continued, Galadwen saw the army still had no idea why the attack happened. She wasn't surprised that Galadriel hadn't shared her suspicions with them. She had kept Galadwen's gift a secret from all but Celeborn in an attempt to protect her daughter.

That didn't stop others from noticing something was different about Galadwen. Whether it was her parentage or something else, she had always been treated differently by others. Never feeling welcomed into the community as a child meant she'd discovered comfort in her own company at an early age. Her longing desire to be included had changed quickly with the arrival of her gift. She had realised that even if she was included, she would never be a part of them, not with the things she saw. But there were now more important things to be concerned about than finding her place amongst the elves.

The Captain, in his brilliantly bright golden armour, had stepped down from the speaking podium and the crowd had started talking in hushed voices. With a deep breath to steady her nerves and weak body, Galadwen pushed herself off the pillar and made her way slowly through the crowd, to stand in front of her mother and Celeborn. The crowd had hushed as she passed them and now waited in curious silence. Both her mother and Celeborn's emotions were masked by well-practised passive expressions, but Galadwen could see fear in her mother's eyes.

"My Lady. My Lord," Galadwen said in a clear voice as she bowed as low as her weak body would allow her. "I have come to ask your blessings for my first venture outside of your fair lands. I wish to see more of the world I have seen in only songs. To get a taste of adventure and sate my childhood dreams, I will travel alone from here to our cousins in the north."

"I see your certainty of heart," came Galadriel's voice in her mind. "But I must ask, why are you really leaving?"

"I want to start changing the future instead of just seeing it. To do that, I need to leave here."

"Dear Galadwen, if you leave Lothlorien, never again shall you see the mallorn trees," came her mother's voice in a sombre tone. "I fear for you, my child. If you must go, I will give you the time you need to prepare."

"Thank you, Mother, for your warning," Galadwen replied telepathically.

The speed of the telepathic conversation was such that only a short pause, enough to take a breath, was experienced by her body and those around her.

"The recent attack and my own brush with death has given me the haste of a mortal to do those things I have only dreamed about. As soon as my body has the strength, I will begin preparations to travel alone."

"You have our blessings brave Galadwen. But tell me, which of our cousins do you plan to visit?"

"I wish to see both Rivendell and Mirkwood, but I have not decided who to visit first."

"We will do what we can to assist you on this journey you have set your heart on," said Celeborn with a kind smile and a dismissive nod. Her mother sat like a beautiful and powerful statue, not a single muscle had moved since Galadwen had come forth.

"Thank you, my Lord, my Lady," Galadwen replied with another deep bow. Rising, she turned and the crowd parted to let her through. On many of the faces in the crowd, she now saw surprise, shock, and in some even a little admiration. To take her first journey beyond the borders alone, was either very brave or very foolish. It seemed some had already decided one way or the other.

At the back of the room, Nestor gave her a warm smile then stepped forward, offering her arm. Galadwen gratefully took it before making her way unsteadily back down the stairs. When they finally reached the bottom, Nestor led her over to a bench formed into the trunk of the King of Trees. Galadwen sat down in relief.

"You did well my child," Nestor said, patting her gently on the knee. "We'll go over your plans in detail later. But for now tell me, do you have the energy to climb our home tree, or would you prefer staying in the guest room for a bit longer?"

"I would much rather go home, but it may take me a while to make the climb."

"Then rest here awhile child. I will collect your things and have a meal and your bed ready for you at the top." With another pat on her leg, Nestor stood and glided away towards the guest rooms.

Galadwen leaned back and closed her eyes, listening to life move around her. With her head resting against the trunk, she could even hear the life of the King of Trees as it flowed through its limbs to a slow steady rhythm. Her body started to relax and slow to that same rhythm. She felt more than heard the years of the tree. Each ring of growth holding the evidence of its knowledge and strength gained. She stayed in this meditative state, letting her body rest and recover without allowing her mind to sink into the future. This was as close as she could get to a true sleep.

Her meditative rest was interrupted by the sound of someone approaching. Galadwen opened her eyes to see one of her mother's personal guards striding towards her. It was the tall guard who had lifted her onto the litter. She smiled in greeting. Small braids kept his long copper hair off his fair slender face. He walked with the restrained grace and power of a hunter in his silver armour. The blue cloak fanning out behind him, showing the curved sword at his hip.

He gave her a small bow. "I greet you a good day Galadwen. May I join you?"

"You are one of the guards who came for me," Galadwen said. "Yes, please sit." Once he was seated she continued. "I owe you and the other Royal Guards my deepest thanks. Without your help, I would no longer be in the land of the living. Thank you," she said, bowing her head to him.

"It was my honour Galadwen. I am just glad to see our efforts were not in vain. There were moments when I feared they were. You clung to life with a strength I have rarely seen before."

"I still have too much to do in this life to leave now."

"So do many that I have seen die from lesser wounds," he said while his penetrating gaze searched her eyes. "But I did not disturb your rest to debate why some die and others do not. I wish to ask you something." His tone and gaze told Galadwen that this was a test. Her answer would determine his next action.

She smiled in reply. "Of course, but first I must admit my own ignorance and ask your name."

He looked surprised. "My apologies," he replied. "It was arrogant of me to assume you knew who I was. I am Toron, currently of the Royal Guard."

Even Galadwen had heard of Toron. The famed traveller, whose many centuries had been spent exploring Middle Earth. His knowledge and books had been enough to impress even Nestor. "It is an honour to put a face to the famed scholar of Middle Earth," she replied. "What is it you wish to ask of me?"

Scared that she would fail his test, she prepared her mind to visit the future after he asked his question. It would be just a blink to him. "Why do you go to remote places in the forest for days at a time without any supplies?"

Galadwen was surprised at his question. She had been expecting something in regards to her mother. Her eyes closed and her mind quickly identified her three options. First, she could avoid answering by questioning his reasons for asking and he would leave dissatisfied. Second, she could lie and tell a tale about spending time with the trees, but he would not be convinced and would leave dissatisfied. The third option, and the most terrifying would be to tell him the truth. He would listen, seem to believe, then offer to help her prepare for her journey. She thought of all he could offer her to help. He was an elf nearly as old as her mother, who was known to have travelled extensively. Galadwen knew that there was no choice. As terrifying as it was, she would have to tell him. But at least she could see he wasn't going to call her crazy or dismiss her. She opened her eyes.

"I have a gift," she began with a deep breath. "Only Nestor, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn know of it. Our Lady believed that if our enemies knew of it, they would desire it. She believed if knowledge of it got out, it would put me in danger, and after the orc attack, I can see now her fears were not unfounded."

"Are you telling me you believe that the orc invasion was because of you?" he asked in disbelief.

"Do you not think it strange that our whole army could not find me in our own lands after days of searching? Yet after only hours within our border, the orc horde somehow stumbled across me."

"Yes. That is why I'm here. To find out why our best trackers could not track you. What are you hiding?"

"My gift." He looked sceptical. Galadwen knew she had to tell him but it was harder than she thought. Other than Nestor, she had never told anyone before. With her new resolve, she took a deep breath and spoke the truth.

"I can see the future. Not the usual glimpses or prophecies, but a hugely complex web of endless possibilities. Every choice that anybody makes could change the future and all those choices make different paths that split, cross and merge like a tangle of vines. I see all of this every time my body sleeps. I have spent days asleep, searching far into the future. But the further in the future I travel, the less connected I am to my body. If someone came across my sleeping body and I did not wake at their approach or at their touch, it would cause concern. An explanation would be required and soon my gift would be general knowledge. So I hide.

"But then if say a horde of orcs came across me, I would not hear them coming. If a battle raged around me, I would not hear it. If I was shot with a poisoned arrow, I would not feel it until I was near death. Even then I would not feel any pain, only the fading of my connection to my body as it died."

"Did you know I would come to speak to you?"

"No. I prefer not to focus on myself. I am more concerned with stopping the darkness that is starting to creep back into this world before all life and hope is lost. I have been following the futures of the leaders of all the peoples of Middle-Earth. Those with great power such as our Lady, to find the path that could defeat this darkness. But recently I have discovered that the future may not lie with the great and powerful leaders, but with the small and insignificant. The unlikely heroes."

"That is why you are leaving?"

"Yes. For so many years I've only watched the future, now I wish to start acting to help change it. Perhaps that is the key to beating the darkness. To do what you can, even if it is small and seems insignificant."

"That is quite noble of you, but if your gift is such a great secret, why now do you tell me?"

"I used my gift to answer your first question," she replied. "I saw the gravity of it in your eyes, so I viewed my options to find out why."

"So you know what I will say?"

Galadwen nodded in response.

"I didn't even know I was going to say it." She could see in his eyes that he finally believed her.

"Please," Galadwen said with a smile, "I would like you to ask me anyway."

With a deep breath, he spoke. "Too many elves lock themselves within their lands and ignore the world outside unless it comes crashing through their borders. We are a part of Middle-Earth, and its problems affect us, whether we admit it or not. When I have finished serving Our Lady and Lord, then perhaps I will follow your example and head back out into the world to do what good I can. But until then, I will do what I can from Lothlorien. I believe that includes helping you prepare for your journey if you will accept my help?"

"Thank you Toron," she said with a smile. "To learn from you would be an honour I will gladly accept."

"The honour is mine Galadwen. We will start tomorrow. I will see you here at dawn. Or perhaps you already knew that." He stood up looking a little shaken and gave her a small bow. "Until tomorrow," he said before turning and walking away.

Galadwen smiled after him. Such kindness towards her was rare, so she couldn't help but take a moment to enjoy it. She did wonder why he was being so kind. He had treated her like everyone else, keeping his distance, never starting a conversation with her or even offering a greeting. He had ignored her existence like everyone else, until today. There were so many possible reasons why. She didn't know which had suddenly made her visible to him, but it didn't really matter. The only thing that truly mattered was her quest.

An audible growl from her stomach brought her mind back to the present. She still had another tree to climb today before she could eat and rest. Galadwen pressed her palm to the tree and send a thought of thanks to the King of Trees for his strength he'd lent her. Then with a deep breath, she pushed herself up. Her weak legs wobbled as she took small steps towards her home tree. It was not far, but on the way she passed elves going about their business as usual, one looked at her and another actually offered her a small nod. She nearly tripped and fell in shock at being acknowledged.

Arriving at her and Nestor's home tree, Galadwen pressed her palm against the silver trunk as she sent it a silent greeting. She could feel its steady strength fortify her body in reply. Starting up the wide graceful steps that spiralled the tree, Galadwen kept her palm on the trunk, its strength giving her the energy she needed to keep climbing. But barely halfway up, her wobbly legs tripped. Clinging to the handrail was the only thing that prevented her from falling.

Panting, Galadwen lowered her exhausted body to the stairs. Her recovering body demanded a respite. It had been a long day already. She stared past the slim railing to the elves gracefully moving on the forest floor far below and thought about the sudden change in their perception of her.

Since her announcement this morning, she was no longer ignored. Somehow they saw her differently, or perhaps it was because she now saw herself differently. As a child, Galadwen had felt the coldness of the other elves, which had made her retreat into herself and avoid their company. She would ignore them so as to prevent herself from being hurt if they ignored her. She had never reached out or made an effort to connect with anyone for fear of being rejected. That fear had shaped and consumed her early life, but now it was gone. Drowned out by a bigger fear. Her fear of the future and the impending void.

Galadwen realised that her first public appearance had been that very morning. Now the beautiful dress and the attention Nestor had paid to her hair all made sense. So too did the surprised reactions of the elves at court. She had been a known hermit, ignoring the existence of everyone. Until now. Surprised at the sudden change in herself, Galadwen thought back on all that had happened since her journey to find the end of the void. She had grown a lot since then, exposed in her latest decision to accept Nestor's advice and start acting to change the future. That last decision had brought her out of the quiet forest into the clearing for all to see. Something she had never thought she'd be brave enough to do. But her struggles in the void had given her a strength and determination that Nestor's question had directed towards action.

Recognising and embracing her mental strength, Galadwen used it to help her up the remainder of the stairs to the landing in the crown of their tree. Nestor was a prolific tree singer and was always asking their tree to change the layout of their house. She had been at it again while Galadwen was away. To her left was a table made of a large branch that split into two, creating a flat table surface before the branches continued up to form a low canopy over the table. From this canopy hung small globes of light. Chairs around the table were formed with small flexible branches weaved together. There was a food prep area beyond the table, with baskets hanging out of low branches to provide storage. Nestor's sleeping quarters were opposite the arch of the landing entrance, up a thick branch to a smaller landing. Galadwen's quarters were usually upon another landing to the right, but Nestor had sung a sleeping platform into the main landing which had her bedroll and night shift spread out on it. Nestor rightfully thought Galadwen too weak to climb further to her usual sleeping platform.

There was a large plate of fresh food on the table but Nestor was nowhere to be seen. Galadwen sat down in the nearest flexible chair, feeling it move to support her comfortably as she started to tackle the plate of food. After finishing a whole lembas bread, that was still warm in its leaf wrapper, she moved on to the fruit and nuts. The plate was easily cleaned up. Beside it was three lembas loaves stacked up. With a small twinge of guilt at her gluttony, Galadwen took the top loaf and started munching on it. Lembas was not typically a staple food source, usually being saved for the travellers or scouts and warriors on the move. But after consecutive days sleeping, Galadwen found the only thing that could curb her hunger and quickly return her strength was lembas.

Recently she had been spending more days in the future than the present. Only coming back to drag her starved body home and stuff it with lembas before heading back to hide in the forest and search the future. That was probably why her body was so weak. Finishing the lembas, she picked up the next one. She put her palm on the chair and hummed a soft tune. The branches of the chair complied with her request, moving back and lengthening under her until she was lying stretched out on the branches. Nibbling at the lembas, Galadwen closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the canopy. She could feel the life of the great tree around her, echoed in the young branches supporting her body. She sang a soft gentle song to them. A song of life, growth, change, and hope. She sang it as it came to her, so it was not a great song. But she could feel the trees appreciation by the movement of the small branches growing and winding around her arms.

When she finished her song, Galadwen opened her eyes to find herself encased in a cocoon of new shoots and silver green leaves. She finished eating the lembas while thinking back to the last time she had sung to the trees. She had left Caras Galadhon in the early hours of the morning, while the early autumn mist stifled any noise and hid her from view, should anyone have been looking. She followed the path north out of the city, then at the rising of the sun, climbed the nearest tree on her left. The further from the city, the smaller the mallorn trees were, with branches within arm's reach of the ground. Even closer to the border, other trees could be found scattered amongst the mallorns such as oaks and maples. Apparently, on the border, there was a ring of the forest with no mallorns in it, but she had not been that far out herself. Galadwen paused on a lower branch long enough to check no one was around as she hummed to the tree. It listened and bent its eastern branch so she could cross to the next tree. As she crossed, she hummed to the next tree to bend its eastern branches, continuing to travel in an eastern direction. When she was finally outside the range of elven hearing from the southern path, she started singing.

Travelling went quicker now, as each tree bent to her wishes before she reached it, then returned to its original position after she had passed. She leapt and swung from tree to tree for another hour until coming to a slight clearing with larger mallorn trees around its perimeter. One of them would do for a nest. She circled the glade, singing to the trees and gracefully leaping from one branch to the next, her cloak flaring out behind her. The tree on the far side of the glade had a suitable nook, sheltered from the weather and invisible from the ground. She crouched in the tree, palms resting against the trunk and began singing to it, willing it to enlarge the nook. It did so with soft groans and creaks. Galadwen curled up in the nook and willed the tree to close up around her, fitting to her body and leaving just her upper torso visible but well supported. She lifted the hood of her cloak over her face, closing her eyes and opening them to see herself asleep in the tree a moment in the future. She pushed her body away, coming out of the path that was her future to start searching the distance future of Middle-Earth.

That had been nearly two weeks ago now. Somehow the orcs had found her, but when she had woken she wasn't in the tree, she had been on the ground. She had never slept in a tree for so long, so maybe she'd outstayed her welcome and the tree had ejected her. Or perhaps her mother or Nestor had requested the trees of the forest to release her. She had heard of songs being sent out and passed from tree to tree, but she'd never seen it. That would be a great song to know. Perhaps she would ask Nestor to teach her one. As if her thoughts called Nestor, Galadwen heard movement outside her cocoon. She pressed her palms to the cocoon and hummed the branches to open. They opened into a chair, the new shoots and leaves fanning out around her like a butterfly's wings. Nestor was smiling from the entrance arch.

"Creating a new song child?" she said, coming over to inspect the chair.

"Just singing nonsense really. Trying to sort through my thoughts," Galadwen said with a modest smile.

"Ah that explains it, strong emotions bring out the most beautiful of work. You have a talent, my child."

"I have a great teacher."

"It took me many centuries to make something as exquisite as this. I feel the student has surpassed the teacher."

"There is still something you can teach me."

Nestor stopped her inspection of the chair and looked down at Galadwen with a curious smile. "Tell me, child, what knowledge do you wish of me?"

"Teach me how to ask the trees to pass messages."

"I have very little knowledge on that. It is a lost art."

"But you know a little."

"Yes child, I will teach you what I know. Though I fear it will only leave you disappointed in my limited knowledge. Lady Galadriel has more knowledge than myself, but as things are at the moment, I fear she is not in a position to teach you."

"I understand Mam. I'll just have to be satisfied with what you can offer. Where do we begin?"

"We begin with you eating that last lembas then getting some rest. I will teach you once I'm satisfied your body is fully recovered. That way, I know you will put as much effort into your recovery as you do into your study. Toron told me about your training," she said with a stern look. "I informed him in no uncertain words that he was not to stress you physically until I am satisfied you are healed. Tomorrow you will be brushing up on the living languages of Middle-Earth."

Galadwen wanted to argue but knew she would only sound like a petulant child. Knowing Nestor had her best interests at heart, she picked up the lembas with a smile for Nestor. "Thank you Mam. I did not want to turn such a generous offer down, but you are right, I'm not yet ready for any physical training. I'm also not yet ready for more rest, so perhaps you can help me understand Galadriel's words."

"Tell me, child," Nestor said as she took a seat at the table.

Galadwen repeated her telepathic conversation with her mother. "I think Galadriel believes this quest will be the death of me. I can think of no other reason why I would never return here. What are your thoughts?"

"I fear the same, my child. So please, do a favour for me." She reached across the table and took Galadwen's hand. "Although my heart yearns to, I will not ask you to stay in Lothlorien. Life is meant to be lived, and not to be locked away in a pretty cage. But tonight, please study your own future. You must be prepared for what may come."

"Oh course Mam, but I do not like dwelling on my own future."

"And nor should you child, for no true happiness can be gained from self-obsession. But for the desire of survival and self-preservation, it would be prudent to at least understand some of the dangers you face." She gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Do it for old Mam who loves you dearly and wants you to live a long life full of many adventures."

Galadwen squeezed Nestor's hand in reply, trying to transfer all her love and affection in that one touch. "I have no words that can adequately express my love and affection for you Mam. Thank you for all you have done for me."

"Thank you for giving an old elf a new lease on life. If it wasn't for you, I would have gone west or faded away long ago." With a final squeeze of her hand, Nestor stood up. "But we should both get some rest before I embarrass you by shedding a tear."

Galadwen smiled at Nestor's very mortal like emotions as she thanked her now throne-like chair for its support before standing and crossing the room to her sleeping mat. The lembas had given her body new energy, and after a rest, Galadwen knew she would have more strength than yesterday. But it would still take days before she was back to her normal strength, and even longer before she was at full strength, suitable for travelling. Something she had not been in many years. She had not been taking proper care of herself. Starving herself for days while she searched the future, then binge eating to increase her strength enough to do it again. She didn't have the luxury of doing that anymore.

Undressing, Galadwen folded the beautiful clothes with care before placing them on a bench. The exquisite clothes were the most luxurious things she had ever worn, a far cry from her usual rough earthy robes. These clothes were fit for royalty, not for her. She slipped into the rough brown shift that Nestor had left out for her on her sleeping mat and unwound the mithril chain from her hair, before tying her long dark hair up in a loose plat. She settled down on the sleeping mat, throwing a blanket over her to keep the chill off before closing her eyes and opening them mere moments in the future.

Galadwen woke before dawn with the images of her death fresh in her mind. She had seen herself die in many different possibilities, from being shot full of arrows to being beheaded. But the worst by far was when she was captured alive by orcs to be tortured until she died or broke. It brought tears to her eyes, remembering the pain her future self may face. Death was preferable to that. And it seemed death was more likely than not. There were too many dark things that would try to kill her. At first, she had been shocked and horrified at watching her own death. But the more possibilities she watched, the shock wore off and was replaced with sadness as she mourned the long life she would most likely lose with this quest. But she kept watching until that too was eventually replaced with a stoic acceptance. If she did not go on this quest, that same fate would come to all sooner or later, but she believed she had the power to make it happen later much for many. She would most likely die during this quest, but she had seen that there was much she could achieve before then.

Galadwen inhaled deeply, then with the exhale, she released those images from her mind. She did not need the reminder and could not afford the distraction. With a now clear mind, Galadwen sat up. She could hear Nestor preparing a breakfast for her across the landing. Opening her eyes, Galadwen saw the beautiful blue dress that she'd piled beside her had been replaced with her usual leggings, light grey robe and the cloak of her people. She dressed quickly, finding her body struggled less with the task than it had the previous day. After lacing her well-worn boots, Galadwen joined Nestor at the table. There was a plate piled high with food for her.

"Tell me, child, what did you see?" Nestor asked as Galadwen sat at the table.

"I saw pain, torture, and so much death. I never knew there were so many ways to die, or that there were so many things that wanted to kill me," Galadwen said with a sad smile.

"But it wasn't all bad was it dear?"

"No, there was life, smiles and laughter. I saw people happy, living and loving because of me."

"But what about yourself child? Did you see love and happiness for yourself?"

"I saw moments of happiness, and even love of new friends." She paused as a face came to her mind. It was a fair face of an elf, with strong features, crystal blue eyes and white hair. She had seen they would become friends but when she had just said love, his face had come to her mind and her heart started thumping wildly. "And perhaps something more," she finally finished with a frown.

"A someone?" Nestor asked with a hopeful smile. She could probably hear her heart beating wildly. Galadwen didn't respond as she swallowed the lump in her throat, and tried to calm her frantic heart. "Love comes to us all my child, we just need to find the one our heart longs for. It is thought that is the reason we elves are gifted with immortality. To have only one true love, we often have to search many mortal lifetimes to find that one." Galadwen could feel fear twisting her insides as her still thumping heart brought a flush to her face. How could she love someone when she hadn't even met them? What would this mean to her quest? Rising from the table, Nestor came around the table and lifted Galadwen's chin to look into her eyes. "Fear not child. With love, what will be will be." She smiled down at her with pure joy before kissing Galadwen on her brow. Nestor's words and her kiss eased Galadwen's fear. As her heart returned to normal, Galadwen listened to Nestor leaving down the stairs. She inhaled then exhaled, dismissing the image and thoughts of love from her mind like she had done with those of her own death. She did not have time for love either.

Galadwen focused on finishing her breakfast, feeling the improved strength in her body. Once she was done, the dappled light coming through the canopy was getting lighter, telling her dawn approached. Standing, Galadwen slowly started down the stairs to meet Toron. Despite the early hour, Galadwen caught glimpses of movement in the shadows as she listened to other elves go about their business. Dawn was usually the time for the elves' silent meditation after an hour or two of sleep during the darkest and coldest part of the night. But the many elves about this morning showed Galadwen how restless everyone was after the orc attack.

Toron was waiting for her beside the bench under the King of Trees.

"Good day Galadwen," he said as she approached.

"Good day Toron. I hope you did not wait long."

"Nay, I have just been relieved of duty. Shall we begin?" he asked.

"Please," Galadwen said with a smile. "Nestor tells me we will be doing languages today."

"Yes, she told me that too," he replied with a wry smile. "Let us walk and talk. Tell me, what is your current knowledge of the living languages?" he asked, gesturing for her to walk beside him.

"I'm afraid it is limited to the major languages that I was taught as an elfling. I have not studied since then so I fear my current knowledge will be even less than that of an elfling."

"Fear not, that knowledge will still be with you. We will just have to dig it up and bring it to the surface. First, we will revise the major languages today. Tomorrow will be learning the basics of some of the minor languages. Most of them are derivatives of other languages, so once you know which other languages each of them is derived from, it is easy enough to understand and pick it up as you go along. Many of the minor languages are very fluid and are changing with each generation, so it is more useful to learn how to pick up languages quickly than actually study the minor languages. This I will try to teach, but the best way is to practice. So after tomorrow, we will attempt to converse in a different language each day."

Galadwen listened to him intently as he led them out of the city. "How many languages do you know?"

"There are the four major languages that are taught to elflings; the common elven language of Sindarin, the high elven language of Quenya, the Dwarven language Khuzdul, and the common human language Westron. I also know the fifth major language, Black Speech, which many elves wish to believe is a dead language, but as recent events prove, it is not. It is not something that is taught, but I feel that is a mistake. We must know and understand our enemy to defeat them. I will teach you it when you are ready. But beyond the major languages, I know 58 minor languages and dialects that I believe are still living languages. And even more that have passed from this world."

Galadwen was surprised at the sheer number of living languages in Middle-Earth. How was she going to learn them all to communicate with anyone?

"But like I said, I will not teach you all the minor languages, only the basics of the most common ones and you will soon have the skills you will need to learn more." He gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. "Sindarin you obviously know. Well, at least the Lothlorien dialect. So let us start with Quenya."

"How do you fair with Quenya?" Toron asked her in that language.

"Quite well actually," she replied in Quenya. "Nestor is fond of telling stories in her native tongue."

He smiled at her before inquiring about Nestor's stories. Galadwen spoke fondly in Quenya of Nestor and her stories and songs. It was easy for her to speak in Quenya, especially about Nestor. Although Quenya was the native language of many of the elves in Lothlorien, it was not commonly spoken. Galadwen had only spoken it with Nestor since she was an elfling, so the language now had a special meaning to her. It reminded her of nights sitting with Nestor, listening to her many stories and songs as the moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting strange shadows that moved and gave life to the stories.

Toron had led them through the city, to the outskirts. As they walked, the city seemed to wake around them. The forest was lit with the golden glow of morning, turning Toron's copper hair a dazzling bronze. They stopped at the edge of a busy glade full of elves. The large forge in the centre of the clearing identified it as the Armory Glade. Galadwen could feel the heat radiating off the white hot fire in the forge from where she stood a dozen yards away. She wondered how the three elves working the forge could stand the heat. Around the edge of the glade, elves were working on various weapons. To their left were spears, across the glade were bows and arrows. Toron turned to their right, making a beeline towards the master swordsmith.

"If Nestor allows, we will start your weapon training next week," Toron explained. "But until then, you should get used to carrying a weapon at all times."

"A weapon?"

"Yes, you must have the skills to defend yourself. I will teach you the bow and sword, and if time allows the spear." Toron turned to the master swordsmith at work polishing a long sword in front of them. In just a leather vest, Galadwen could see he was very solid for an elf. His large muscular arms were tanned from years working at the forge. With his square jaw and a flat nose that looked as if it had been broken many times, he was a formidable sight. The only elf like feature about him was his pointy ears and long light brown hair that was braided down his back. "Good day Master Halon," Toron greeted him with a small bow.

The swordsmith looked up from his work. "Toron Westwind my friend, good day. What brings you here? Do you have more sketches for me?"

"Nay, not today Halon. I am after a sword for Galadwen here." Toron said, gesturing to her. Halon looked up at her from under his lowered brow. The shadows across his eyes and his unsmiling crooked face gave him a menacing look. Galadwen shifted uncomfortably under his gaze as he studied her for a long moment.

"I may have something that will be suitable," he said eventually. Halon rose from his stool, placing the sword and polishing cloth on the nearby bench before turning to the heavy chests behind him. He opened one and started to remove long bundles wrapped carefully in cloth. Each was placed gently on the ground beside him until the chest was nearly empty. Finally, he pulled out a bundle, his knuckles white in their grip as he bowed his head over it. Then, standing, he brought the bundle over to her. With reverent care, he unwrapped the bundle before them, revealing a sword of deadly beauty. The curved sword was similar to Toron's Lhang, but narrower, lighter. The long grip and curved blade were adorned with a pattern of simple but elegant beauty as it shone in the morning light.

"Dargorlin," Halon said as he offered her the sword.

"Battle singer," Galadwen whispered as she picked up the sword with awe.

"A hum you will hear when the enemy is near," he chanted. "May it serve you well, like it did my wife." The light shining off the sword as Galadwen turned it in admiration showed the glint of a tear in Halon's eyes.

"You honour me Master Halon." Galadwen didn't feel she deserved such an honour, but to question Halon's generosity would only insult him. "Pray, tell me what I can give you in return?"

"Naught but your word that you will look after her." Galadwen returned the sword to the offered leather wrappings and Halon slipped it into a sheath before binding it up in its wrappings with quick deft movements.

"You have it Master Halon," Galadwen said, as she took the offered bundle. Surprising herself, she gripped Halon's left shoulder with her right hand. "Many thanks."

Halon returned the grip on her right shoulder. Then after a gentle squeeze, he released her shoulder and turned back to his swords.

"Come," Toron said, gently taking her elbow and leading her around the glade to the archery area. Feeling the gentle pressure of Toron's hand on her elbow, it dawned on Galadwen that until moments ago, she had not touched another elf, with the exception of Nestor and her mother, since she was a very young elfling. It amazed her what a little physical contact could do. She suddenly felt included, accepted, and part of the community. Something she had never felt before.

As they drew near to the archery area, a tall female in dark leather approached them. With hair a shade near that of Toron's and a large warm smile, she embraced Toron in a tight hug.

"Toron," she said as they broke apart. "It has been too long since I laid eyes on your face."

He gave her a guilty smile. "Yes my dear sister, it has. How do you fair? How is Salab?"

"My husband and I are both well Toron, but I can see by your guilty look that you did not come here to visit me," the woman said as she gave Galadwen a questioning glance.

"Cullas, please meet Galadwen. Galadwen, this is my beloved sister Cullas, a master bow carver."

Galadwen clasped Cullas's offered right arm with her own. "Greetings Galadwen. You must be my brother's latest victim."

"Victim?" Galadwen asked.

"He only comes to visit when he wants something," Cullas said with a wink. "More often than not, it is something for someone he has taken under his wing." Galadwen gave her a confused look. "Toron has a love of travel and adventure, and when he can't travel, he gets pleasure from encouraging and training others to do the same. So come, let's get you a bow."

Cullas led her over to a rack of beautiful re-curve bows of pale wood with a unique silver engraving on each. They varied in length, shape and thickness. Cullas took a bow of the rack, held it up beside Galadwen, shook her head and put it back on the rack. She took another one off the rack, flexed it, and then returned it. The third bow Cullas picked up seemed to pass her test as she handed it to Galadwen.

"How does this feel?" Cullas asked.

Galadwen held it awkwardly in her hand, not really sure what she was supposed to do.

"I'll show you how to string it, then we'll get you a quiver. A back strap one I think would be best. I may even have one that you can attach a sheath to."

Cullas bustled around her archery stall, picking up a quiver, arrows, and other pieces of leather of unknown purpose. When she had her arms full, Galadwen followed her to the back of the stall, where Cullas showed her how to put everything together and to wear it comfortably so it did not hinder any movement. The weight felt strange on her back, but after a few quick adjustments, Cullas assured her it was as it should be.

"Right," Cullas said, stepping back to look her over. "You may find that you will need to braid your hair so it does not tangle in the quiver. Other than that, you are ready. Good luck."

"For what?" Galadwen asked.

"For my brother. He is a hard taskmaster. But it is only because he knows of the dangers out there," Cullas said. "He has had students quit on him before but if you listen to what he says and work hard, you will be fine."

"I will," replied Galadwen, shrugging under the weight of her weapons and Cullas's stare.

"Yes," Cullas agreed, studying her. "I do believe you will."


	3. Chapter 3 - Life Force

**Chapter 3: Lifeforce**

Galadwen and Toron soon continued their walking through the city, but now Galadwen had the weight of the sword, bow and full quiver on her back. Their pace slowed as her body tired.

"Can you tell me about Master Halon's wife?" Galadwen struggled to say in Khuzdul.

"What do you wish to know?" Toron asked her smoothly in Khuzdul as he led her into a small garden.

"He talked of her in the past tense. What happened to her?"

Toron gestured for them to sit on a stone bench by a trickling stream that wound through ferns at their feet. Once they were seated he brought out a couple of apples and some lambas bread for them to eat before he replied in Khuzdul. "Halon and his wife Pelinelbes were a couple of the steel. Him the smith and she the warrior. After a few centuries of blissful marriage, they had a daughter Filegeth. She was not unlike you with her long dark hair, full of adventure and wanderlust. She was killed before her 100th year on her first journey from here to Rivendell. She was travelling with a company of elves who were set upon by a large force of orcs. Two of the company were killed, the rest fled. In the confusion, she went missing. Her body was found weeks later, twisted hideously from the torture. The pain of the loss of Filegeth was unbearable for Pelinelbes, who blamed herself for not going on the journey with Filegeth to protect her, or at least for not giving Filegeth her sword. Many, including myself, tried to convince Pelinelbes that her daughter's death was not her fault, but she faded away a few years later. Since then Halon has thrown himself into his craft. It is probably the only thing keeping him here. His swords are widely considered the best swords out of any crafted east of the Blue Mountains and west of the Iron Hills."

Silence fell between them as they ate their food, both lost in thought. Galadwen was both amazed at Halon's resilience at such pain, loss, and deeply saddened by Pelinelbes's death. It was a great loss when someone died, but even more so when they faded out of grief. It was the greatest danger for an elf who allowed themselves to love deeply. Galadwen felt a love for many elves, some even who were her family that she had never met. But there was only one who she truly loved deeply, and Galadwen knew that although Nestor was starting to tire of this world, she would never leave until Galadwen was ready. To truly love any others deeply was a danger Galadwen was determined to never put herself in. She had too much danger to face already.

Looking over at her teacher, Galadwen could see a terrible sadness on his face. To break him out of it she spoke in Khuzdul. "Would you tell me about your family Toron?" she asked. He looked at her questioningly. "I don't have much of family as such, well none that will acknowledge me. So I would very much like to hear about your family and what it is like to be a part of a typical family."

A look of sadness and pity flashed over Toron's eyes before he gave her a warm smile. "My family is not what we would consider typical, but yes I will happily tell you about them." He shifted on the bench to get more comfortable, turning towards her. "My parents grew up in Rivendell. They discovered their love for each other at a young age. My mother was not yet in her second century when they decided to have me. Being so young, they still had a strong desire for adventure, so I spent my childhood travelling around Middle-Earth with them as they traded songs and news for food and lodging. A couple of centuries later, when they settled back in Rivendell, they had Cullas and then our two younger brothers Lithanar and Eludor.

When my parents settled down, I continued travelling around Middle-Earth. I never really spent much time with my siblings until the years before the last stand against Sauron. Middle-Earth had become too dangerous to travel alone, with orc raiders stretching as far west as beyond the Misty Mountains. I returned to Rivendell and was quickly recruited into their army as a scout. Callus had discovered her love and skill for carving bows by then so she too was recruited. I finally had the time to get to know my sister and we became close. Those were probably the only days we were a typical family. Then Cullas and I headed off to war, the details of which I'm sure you know."

"I have heard the songs," Galadwen confirmed. "But I would like to hear your tale if you would honour me."

"It is not one to write a song about, but I will tell you." Toron's eyes lost focus as his mind returned to the past. "I remember feeling such pride as I watched the army depart Rivendell. Being a scout, we left first and watched from the high road. The many banners flapping vigorously in the wind, the glint of armour, and the sung farewell that echoed around the valley spoke of hope and victory. It filled my heart with such pride and honour.

"We crossed the Misty Mountains and met the Wood Elves at the Anduin. With our combined strength, we followed the river south. It was strange for me to travel with the army. I was used to travelling by myself or with a small group, where we would eat when hungry and walked until we wished to stop. The strict schedule and orders of the army ground at me, particularly when we were on the road.

"Fortunately I had scouting duty, which allowed me to escape the commotion for the peace of the wild. I would head out further than required, as far as I could in the time I had until I needed to report back in. It became a game on how far I could get from the army until it was time to turn back. After a week, I was scouting out twice as far as what I was ordered to do. Most times I was scouting to the west and could often make it into the foothills of the Misty Mountains. On one such night, I had climbed a spur of the foothills and was looking back the way I had come across wooded rolling hills at the lights of the army cook fires in the distance. The army was only two days march from Lothlorien, having stopped for their final rest before reaching the fair elven realm. The moonlight cast dark shadows in the wooded valleys, but in one valley to the south-east, I could see the slightest flickering of a fire. Wary of encountering orcs alone, so far from the army, I contemplated ignoring it and returning the way I had come. But something would not let me. I would like to say it was my conscience and my honour, but I suspect it was only my curiosity of the unknown.

"No matter the reason, I was soon warily creeping down the said valley. I was anxious of traps, as by now I could smell the wood fire smoke and the sickly smell of burning flesh. The forest was dense, dampening any sound, so I was nearly upon them when I heard the muffled screams and manic laughter. I now knew it to be orcs. I inched my way forward as terror filled me. I was terrified of being too late to help the one who was screaming as much as I was terrified of being caught and tortured next. But what scared me the most was the possibility that I would be unable to help.

"When I did finally reach the clearing, I saw a horrific scene that will stay with me forever. They had an elf strung up between two trees on the far side of the clearing. He was naked, his matted hair hung over his lolling face. All his skin was black from bruising. That is, except for his left hand. It had been flayed. Blood dripped from the red flesh in a steady patter, and more slowly from where his fingernails and toenails had been on his other limbs.

"There were six orcs lounging around the fire in the centre of the clearing. One was cooking something over the fire. It sizzled in the pan, the smell of burning flesh reaching my nose. As I watched, the orc plucked a strip of cracked flesh out of the pan and crunched into it. All the orcs had crude ugly weapons within their reach. I figured I could shoot down two, possibly three of the orcs before they attacked, but the numbers would still be stacked against me. I had just decided to sneak around to the elf and try to untie him to make a stealthy getaway when one of the orcs stood up and crossed over to the elf. He took out a knife and slowly cut off the elf's flayed index finger. The night was filled with the poor elf's screams of agony.

"I tried to tell myself that there was nothing I could do, but before I knew what I was doing, I had an arrow notched and aimed at the orc mutilating the elf. I let fly, not even waiting to confirm it hit home before eyeing up the orc closest to me while notching my next arrow. That arrow too was loosed before the orcs realised they were under attack. The next arrow was for the orc on the far side of the fire. With his weapon at the ready, he had seen where my last arrow had come from, but he wasn't quick enough to completely dodge the next arrow. All the remaining orcs were standing now, weapons in hand. The last orc I had shot was down on one knee with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder, he shouted something at the others, pointing in my direction. They turned and I had time to get one more arrow off before the last two were upon me. I dropped my bow and stepped out into the clearing with my sword in hand, but I was not as skilled with it as my bow. The orcs came at me from each side. They pushed me hard. Although orcs have the advantage of greater strength and we have the advantage of greater speed. But with two of them, my speed was not a large enough advantage. It took everything I had to keep their weapons off me. Fortunately, the orc on my left stumbled on one of his dead comrades. I took the opening and downed him, but it left me open. The remaining orc slashed at my right thigh with his jagged sword. It knocked me off balance and I went down heavily. The orc was on my back, his steel fists pummelling into my head. I am fortunate that he did not wish to kill me quickly otherwise, he could have cut me down with his sword. Instead, we struggled on the ground. I managed to turn around, but we both knew he had the advantage in weight and strength as more blows landed on my head and torso. I remember hearing him laughing between blows, a snorting grunting laugh. As I cowered with my hands protecting my face, I grabbed the dagger hidden in my left vambrace, then as another blow came down, I stabbed it up under his armpit. I remember his grunt in surprise as it went in, but it wasn't enough to kill him instantly. Surprise turned to rage. The orc went crazy, scratching, biting, ripping, and tearing at me. I did the best I could to protect myself. Fortunately, it only lasted a few seconds as he quickly bled out, covering us both in his dark blood. He stopped as suddenly as he started, then collapsed, dead, on top of me.

"I lay there for a moment, hardly believing I was still alive. As my racing heart slowed, I shoved the orc off me. I tried to stand but my injured leg collapsed underneath me. Through the torn leggings I could see my thigh was a mess of torn flesh and muscle. I used what was left of the bottom of my leggings to roughly bandage it. A quick scan of the clearing showed five dead orcs. One was gone. The one who had first spotted me. He was injured, but I feared he'd be back with reinforcements soon, as we were not far from the mountains.

"Somehow I managed to stumble over to the elf and release his bindings. He hit the ground in a heap, letting out a small moan. I clothed him in my cloak and reluctantly bandaged up his left hand. Even the soft cloth of my undershirt would cause no relief against the bare meat of his hand. But the bleeding needed to be stopped or he would not have gone far. As I gave him a drink from my waterskin, we heard the hunting howl of wargs. With the realisation that the orcs were coming, on wargs no less, I knew we would most likely not live out the night. But at the same time, a determination to at least try filled me. With that determination, a new strength filled me. It seemed to radiate from my chest, giving my muscles strength and dulling the pain of my injury. Without taking time to question it, I hurriedly collected my weapons, hoisted the elf over my shoulder and set off at a steady run.

"I knew it was about a 6 hour run back to the army, but time seemed to have no relevance as I ran. My world shrunk down to just the steady breathing of the elf on my shoulders and the movement of my body as it took one step after another. My new strength didn't waiver. In fact, at every new howl of the wargs, as they gained on us, my strength fortified and my body moved lighter, swifter. I kept moving, one foot in front of the other. As the new day dawned, I realised that by some miracle we had survived the night. With the dawn, the warg howls ceased, but I still kept running. I was afraid of what would happen to my body if I did stop. That mysterious strength was still there, but I could feel it slowly ebbing away.

"When I finally came over the last hill, I remember feeling such joy and overwhelming relief at the sight of the army camp. I was so focused on my destination, of making it back to camp, that I didn't even notice the sentry guards. I was told later that they dared not stop me. I looked like the walking dead, covered in orc and elf blood, seeing or hearing no one. They thought I had gone mad, so they followed me into camp, as I continued running. The last thing I remember is reaching the healers' tent and carefully lowering the elf onto a stretcher.

"I woke up five days later here in Lothlorien to my sister Cullas and another elf keeping vigil over my body. That other elf was missing two fingers from his bandaged left hand. His name was Salab, a scout for Lothlorien, and the elf who later gave his heart to my sister. I was considered too injured and weak to continue with the elven armies when they left two days later. So that was the extent of my participation in the war."

Toron turned to Galadwen, giving her a small smile. "Like I said, nothing to write a song about."

"I disagree," Galadwen replied. "To say such a thing is to undervalue Salab's life and the love he shares with Cullas."

"What you say is true," Toron admitted, "but my reason in agreeing to tell you my tale was not to discuss what makes a heroic deed. It was to share my experience of our life force with you. After many discussions with the healers, while I recovered here, I slowly gained a knowledge and understanding of our life force. It is not often talked about so no one is sure what it is exactly. Theories range from some form of power, or magic, or even our spirit or soul. What is known is that it is the power that makes us immortal, gives us heightened senses, speed, and grace. It is also what allows us to feel emotions keenly, more than any other beings. Making it our greatest gift, but also our greatest weakness.

"As I discovered on that fateful day, we are able to tap into that power in times of great need."

"The strength that allowed you to outrun the wargs?" Galadwen asked, fascinated.

"Yes," Toron agreed. "It saved my life and Salab's."

"But if this force can help us achieve great feats, why is it not talked about? Why do we not learn about it and learn how to use it?"

"Because, Galadwen, it is also how we die."

Frowning up at him, she could read the meaning in his face. "When we fade," she said.

"Yes," he confirmed. "To depart from this life, we must consume all of our life force. There is no danger to consume a little, as long as we allow our bodies to recover, which they must do in a state of unconsciousness. Hence why I slept so long after I collapsed at the healers' tent. It is also why you slept for seven days. When we arrived back with you, I had only just lifted your lifeless form off the stretcher when Lady Galadriel swept into the room, light spilling from her closed hand. I think perhaps on that day I joined a small list of people who have seen the ring of power, Nenya. From her glowing hand, she produced a tiny vial of equally bright liquid. You had used up all of your life force, your laboured breaths had stopped and the slow beats of your heart were so far apart I feared they had ceased. A moment later and I think you would have gone." Toron paused, letting his words sink in. "From what I can understand, the liquid she gave you forced a little bit more life into your body. As far as I am aware, an elf's life force can only be gifted to another as they depart this world. As our Lady is still with us, I can only assume she used the power from Nenya."

"I did not know Nenya had such power."

"The true extent of Nenya's power is probably only known to Galadriel herself."

"Yes, as it needs to be I suppose," Galadwen agreed. "Thank you for telling me this Toron, it has given me much to think on."

"I have not finished Galadwen, there is still more you must understand about the life force to survive outside the Golden Forest."

He gave her such a solemn penetrating look that Galadwen suspected he must have some skill at reading her thoughts or feelings.

"I am listening Toron," she said under his unblinkingly stare.

"That wound should not have nearly killed you, but it did so because you have unknowingly been draining your life force continuously for many years now. I discussed it with Nestor yesterday after I noticed you absorbing some of the Great Tree's life force before I interrupted you."

"I often borrow strength from the trees, but I did not know it was their life force. I should not take this life from them," she said, shocked to learn her relationship with the beautiful mallorn trees was one of a leech. "But how can you see this?"

"I have the gift to see the life flowing through and around all living things. Most plants have aura's so small I have to really focus to see them, but the mallorn trees are different. They have been woken by the elves. Immortal beings such as us elves have a strong aura that flows from a bright centre, the life force. Yesterday, I saw the Great Tree's aura flowing into your bright centre, replenishing your life force. I do not think you can forcefully take life force from anyone or thing. The life force must be given, so do not worry yourself about taking life from them. They will only give it if they are willing."

She could see Toron study her again. "I can see that I've pushed you too much today." At her questioning look, he explained. "You are currently draining your life force. So would you give me the honour of showing me how you are given strength from the trees?"

Galadwen nodded in agreement. "Let us go to the King of Trees and I will show you what I can," she said.

Toron stood with a smile, offering his hand to her.

"Thank you but I can do it," Galadwen said, refusing his offered hand.

Toron's smile only widened. "I know you can do it, but I can see you drawing on your life force. The more you do it, the longer your recovery will be. So I suggest, for your own sake, that you take the offered help."

Grudgingly Galadwen took the offered hand. Toron helped her to her feet then slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, letting her lean on him.

"I have never seen someone use their life force as much as you do," Toron said as he led them down the path to the Great Tree. "It is a very useful skill, but one you must learn to control or you may find that when you need it the most, there will be nothing left. Unfortunately, it is not something I can teach you, but I have found the best way to understand a subject more fully is to teach another. So I would like to put myself forward and ask that you try to teach me this skill."

Galadwen felt surprised at his offer. "It is hard to imagine that someone as young as myself would have anything to teach one as wise and travelled as you, but I would be honoured to try. Although please be warned, teaching is not something I have any experience in. I do not know if I have any skill in it."

Toron smiled down at her. "Well then perhaps it will be another skill I can help you learn." Galadwen smiled back up at him, feeling the strange warmth of companionship. Today had been the most conversation she had ever had in one day, with anybody, even Nestor. Not once had she felt judgement or disapproval, from him or any other elf they had talked to like she had feared for so long.

"These auras that you see. What are they like? Does it not get confusing?"

"I do not see them all the time. Only when I focus, otherwise yes it would be disorientating. When I do, I see a halo of moving light around every living thing. They vary in colour and brightness depending on the being. Elves tend to be the brightest, due to their life force, but the colours are different for everyone."

"What colour is my aura?"

"Silver white, but it is not very bright at the moment."

"What colour is your aura?"

"I do not know, I cannot see it. But I can tell you that Cullas has an orange gold aura, the Lady of Light has a pure white aura and Nestor has a pale green that is almost white. I have studied the aura's of all who live here," he said with a guilty look.

"What colour is the King of Trees?" Galadwen asked as they approached the tree.

"Silver green, like the other mallorn trees, just stronger."

Arriving at the bench, Galadwen gladly took a seat. After Toron sat beside her, she reached out her palm and touched the bench between them. Speaking aloud what she would usually say in her mind, Galadwen felt a little foolish, but she did it anyway. "Greetings mighty tree, King of All Trees. Thank you for the protective canopy above us, the support of the bench below us and the strength of your trunk behind us." She closed her eyes and felt the tree under her touch and listened to the life flow through it. Now she knew to look for it, Galadwen could feel part of that life start to flow into her as her body adjusted to the tree's rhythm. It eased her tired body and refreshed her spirit.

"I listen to the tree's life flowing through it and my body slows to its rhythm. Then I can feel the strength flow through me too," Galadwen said to Toron with her eyes still closed. After a long moment, she heard him move beside her and felt his hand next to her's on the bench. The rich smell of his leather amour mixed with his warm earthy smell reached her nose. His breathing slowed to match that of hers, but his heart did not slow to match the rhythm of the tree, instead it actually speed up.

"Can you hear the life flow through the tree?" she asked quietly.

"Nay," he replied hoarsely.

"Put your ear against the trunk. Close your eyes and listen to the noises around you. Then focus on the sound of my heartbeat. Try slow your heart to match mine."

Galadwen listened to his racing heart. It took a while, but finally, he slowed it to match hers.

"Do you hear the tree?" she whispered.

"Nay," he replied.

"Feel the bark under your hand and against your ear. Feel the life of the tree, feel its strength. Feel the age of it, with each year adding another ring of knowledge to it. Feel those years go back until you can feel the heart of the tree. Feel the life that flows through the heart, up and down the trunk, from the highest leaves to the deepest roots."

They sat on the bench under the King of Trees in silence as the world moved about them. Many of the elves who passed gave them curious looks, but none disturbed them. As the sun started to lower in the west, Toron opened his eyes. He had been trying for hours to feel the life flowing through the tree, but so far he had only felt the bark under him. Galadwen sat next to him, her eyes still closed, her chest slowly rising and falling with each meditative breath. She looked so peaceful, with a slight smile on her lips. He focused his mind on her and the aura around her came into focus. It was beautiful. The colour of starlight. Her life force core was brighter now, with the slightest of mallorn green to it as she continued to absorb the Great Tree's strength. He watched the hypnotic flow of the auras as the tree's flowed through her.

In seeing the aura of the tree, he could now feel its life under his touch. But it was separate to him. It didn't flow into him like it did Galadwen. He moved to get a better view of Galadwen and the Tree.

Galadwen heard Toron move. "How do you fair Toron?" she asked, opening her eyes to see him watching her.

"I can see and feel the life of the tree, but it does not flow through me."

"My only suggestion would be to talk to the Great Tree and the other mallorn trees, acknowledge them, build a relationship with them and perhaps they will listen."

"A relationship with the trees?" he asked. "How do you build a relationship with something that cannot talk back?

"They do if you are willing to listen," she replied.

"Do you talk to the trees often?"

Galadwen looked away in embarrassment as she nodded a confirmation. "Nestor told me the best tree singing requires a relationship with the tree. So I greet them, sing to them, thank them, and bid them farewell. They have been my friends." She paused, turning to look at him.

Toron smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes. "Tell me, how do you know the trees listen when you talk to them?"

"They move of their own accord, without me asking anything of them."

Toron looked surprised. "That is something I would greatly like to see."

"I can show you if you wish, but first I should eat. Would you care to join me for a meal at home?" she asked shyly.

In one smooth movement, Toron stood and bowed to her. "I would be honoured Lady Galadwen," he said, offering his hand.

Galadwen smiled as she took the offered hand. "I am no lady my Lord Toron, for I have still not reached my hundredth year," she said as he helped her to her feet.

"Age is not a number my lady," Toron replied, tucking her arm into his elbow. "It is a state of being, and you have none of the carefree or mischievous thoughts of one your age. So please, allow me to call you as I see you."

She looked away in embarrassment but nodded her agreement.

"We should take this opportunity to continue your study," he spoke in Westron.

They walked to Galadwen's home tree, arm in arm, talking in Westron. This language had many influences from the elvish languages so it was easier to remember and pick up than Khuzdul. Galadwen found she was conversing relatively smoothly by the time they reached Laerorneth. She reached out her free hand and touched the tree in greeting as they ascended the stairs.

"What did you say to the tree?" Toron asked.

"I am pleased to see you, Laerorneth, the noble tree I call home. May your leaves bask in the sunlight and may your roots find all the nourishment you need."

Toron smiled, then closed his eyes and touched the trunk of the tree. His hand brushed the bark as they continued up the stairs, his eyes still closed. They had nearly reached the landing when he finally opened his eyes again.

"What did you say?" Galadwen asked, unable to hold back her curiosity.

"Merely a greeting, and then I took your advice and spoke to it."

"About what?" she pressed.

"That is between myself and the tree," he replied with a mysterious smile. Galadwen frowned at his secrecy. That was the first time he had refused to answer her question. She didn't like it, particularly because it was her home tree he had been talking to, and under her advice no less. But like the good elf of Lothlorien that she was, she was practised in letting her emotions go.

They reached the landing, walking through the arch to find Nestor putting plates of food on the table.

"Galadwen, Toron," Nestor said with a warm smile. "How do the lessons fair?"

"Well," Toron replied. "Galadwen learns quickly. We have conversed in all the major languages while getting her some weapons for when she is ready."

"It seems to have done her good. Galadwen, you are looking more revitalised than this morning."

"I am, but it has left me famished," she said, approaching the butterfly chair at the table.

"As I suspected. Please help yourselves," she said, gesturing to the food on the table. "I will be back later." With that, she slipped passed them and disappeared down the stairs.

"Is she usually in such a hurry?" Toron asked as he took a seat next to her.

"Only when she is up to something," Galadwen said, unconcern. Nestor would fill her in when she was ready. For now, food was her priority so she started on the fruit in front of her.

"How very strange," Toron replied, taking a seat beside her. "She acts more like an elfling than you."

Sometime later, after Galadwen had cleared the table of food, she looked up to see Toron smiling at her.

"I have never seen someone consume so much food in one sitting, and that is saying something. I have seen three dwarves consume a feast fit for a dozen people" he said in awe. "But you have outdone them all. Eating all of that including three lambas loaves. Where has it all gone?"

"I guess the years of feast then famine have trained my body to hold a large amount of food. Did you have enough to eat?" Galadwen asked, suddenly feeling embarrassed that she had eaten all the food, leaving nothing for her guest.

"Do not concern yourself, I have had my fill," he replied. "I am more eager to see you sing to the tree."

"Please do not judge my singing. I have no great skill," Galadwen said, feeling shy. She closed her eyes and focused on the branches of the chair around her. Galadwen began to sing of healing, growth, and learning. The branches began to move, gently swaying to her words.

As she sung, Galadwen's thoughts drifted, remembering the extraordinary day. Her tune changed as she sung farewell to her loneliness and celebrated the new acceptance she had felt. The branches were moving more vigorously now, gently shifting her body about. When Galadwen opened her eyes, she was a couple of yards above the landing. The chair around her had solidified into a mass of twisted, knotted branches, and a small canopy of silver-green leaves fluttered above her head. It was an impressive work even for her. She did not think the song had been that good so wondered if perhaps the tree was showing off to Toron.

Toron still sat in the chair below her, his mouth comically hanging open. Galadwen smiled at his surprise while she silently asked the tree to lower her down. The thick branches below her twisted in on themselves, bending out to form steps as she was lowered. Now only a couple of feet above the landing, Galadwen stepped down off the chair.

Recovered from his shock, Toron stood to admire the chair. "I have never seen or even heard of such a thing. When you said the tree moved as you sung, I imagined the branches would sway slightly or the leaves would flutter of their own accord. I never thought the tree would have such creativity."

"After decades of Nestor singing to her, I would be surprised if she had not learnt a bit of creativity."

"She?" Toron asked as he ran his hand over the knots of the chair.

"Does the chair not have a feminine feel to it?"

"Yes, it does," Toron agreed. "But I would not call this a chair. It is a throne. One of such grace and beauty to rival the two in the Great Tree."

Galadwen shifted uncomfortably at his comment. "I thank you for your kindness Toron, but I must remind you that this chair was the work of Laerorneth, not me. I have no wish for a throne."

"I did not mean to imply that you do. I was only commenting that perhaps the tree is aware of your heritage and has created this chair to honour it and you."

Galadwen did not know what to say to that. She turned away in embarrassment. Her relationship with her mother was not something that she was comfortable talking about.

"I must go," Toron said suddenly. Galadwen turned back to him in surprise. "It is near dusk, duty calls. I will see you tomorrow at dawn at the Great Tree?"

Galadwen nodded in agreement and then he was gone.

Now alone, Galadwen suddenly felt exhausted. Not as much physical exhaustion like she had expected, but a mental exhaustion. It had been a day like no other. Today she had felt a part of the community. Today she had discovered her life force. Today she had learnt a lot about and from Toron, and nearly as much about herself. Sitting down on her throne-like chair, Galadwen thought over the day, burning it in her mind. Today felt like the start of her future. It was a day she would never forget.


	4. Chapter 4 - Belonging

**Chapter 4 - Belonging**

The following day was much like the previous, except this time she carried her weapons and braided her hair in one long plait down her back. Galadwen met Toron at the King of All Trees at dawn. They spent most of the day walking around Caras Galadhon talking in the minor languages of Middle Earth. Some of the languages took a while to pick up, but others were easier. They passed many elves on their walk, all acknowledged Galadwen and Toron, many even stopping to offer a word of greeting. It felt strange to Galadwen, but not unpleasant.

She did not tire as much as the previous day, but they still stopped at the Great Tree.

"Come, let us stop and rest a while," Toron said, taking a seat on the bench under the Great Tree.

"Thank you Toron, but I feel quite well," Galadwen replied. "Can we not continue my tuition?" she asked.

"Learning the languages will help you, but it will not protect you or save you from orcs. We are waiting for you to be fully recovered before the real training is to start. So please, let us rest awhile. Besides, I wish to practice talking to the Great Tree."

Galadwen relented and took a seat beside Toron.

After a few hours rest, Galadwen opened her eyes to feel stronger, quicker and more alert than she had felt in years. She felt the full strength of her people flow through her, every muscle lithe and ready, every sense tuned and alert. The world was brighter, louder, and more alive. Or more accurately, she was more alive. It was almost overwhelming in its intensity as Galadwen sat still on the bench adjusting to it.

"Are you well Galadwen?" Toron asked from his spot beside her.

"Quite, Toron," she replied. "I am now only just realising how poorly I have been looking after myself. I have been living in a world of fog and did not realise. That fog has suddenly cleared, leaving me blinking in the brightness of a new day."

"It seems you are nearly back to full strength. Your recovery has been quicker than I ever imagined, with thanks to the assistance of the Great Tree."

"Yes, I owe him many thanks," Galadwen replied, placing her palm on the trunk and silently sending him her gratitude.

Now her sensors were heightened to their full strength, it was like being born again. Everything felt new. The feel of the bark under her palm told her a story of strength and life. And of the memories of rain trickling down over it, and the many elves to have sat on the bench. She could see the shape and colour of every dust speck as it floated past in the dappled sunlight. She could hear her own heartbeat and that of Torons, and the insects scurrying along the forest floor. But that was getting drowned out by the voices. So many voices, of all the elves nearby, filling her ears with noise. Not used to the heightened sensors, it started to become overwhelming. But before panic could set in, Galadwen drew her focus back in, as every elfling was taught at a young age. Focusing on Toron, she was able to let the other sights and sounds fade into the background. Dark eyelashes framed brown eyes. They weren't looking at her, but into her. She felt herself being intensely studied and strangely, she didn't feel disconcerted. He was her friend.

"If Nestor agrees, perhaps tomorrow we can start with your combat training. There is much you need to learn in very little time," Toron said.

Galadwen shivered. "I never thought myself a warrior. I do not know if I can kill another living being."

"You are not a warrior Galadwen. But to leave here without an escort, even while you are hunted by orcs, you must become one to survive," Toron said with earnest.

Glancing at the weapons leaning against the trunk beside her, Galadwen sighed. "So it will be."

"Then come," Toron said, standing. "Before I teach you how to use your weapons, you must first know how to look after them."

Galadwen collected her weapons and followed Toron. He led her to an area of the city she had not been. Here, long low buildings of wood frame and mud brick stretched between the mallorn trees. They approached one of the buildings with a door and small window about every five yards along one side. Toron opened the seventh door and entered. Galadwen hesitated then followed him in.

Inside, Galadwen's eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness of the small room. On the right were a desk and stool below the window and on the right wall, shelves full to overflowing with books and scrolls. To her left were baskets of food on the ground and hanging from the low ceiling. Down the back, Galadwen could see in the gloom a sleeping mat and a couple of large chests. Toron was opening one of the chests.

"You live here?" Galadwen asked in surprise.

"Yes of course," Toron replied as he searched in the chest.

"Why?" she asked. Galadwen knew the question sounded rude, but she could not understand why someone would live here in this small dark room when they could live in a majestic mallorn tree.

At her question, Toron looked up from the chest. He sat back and considered her for a moment before answering. "There are more elves in Caras Galadhon than there are mallorn trees. The trees are given to those with families first, and still, there are some families who do not have a tree to call home. It is true that being a member of the Royal Guard, I could live in a tree if I wished, but I could not enjoy such an honour knowing that others with more need than my own went without. I am content to live here for now. I have all I need."

Galadwen dropped her gaze, ashamed at her own naivety.

"Do not be ashamed Galadwen, at your lack of knowledge or at your own circumstances. You have grown up in one of the tallest trees in the forest as suits Nestor's prestige and your lineage. We all have our own paths to follow in this life, and yours has not been without significant trial. Do not compare your path to that of others. Instead, give help where you can, for then you will truly be able to enjoy the pleasures of your path, knowing you have done what you can to ease the paths of others."

Galadwen thought over his comments. "You speak wise truths Toron." He nodded and turned back to the chest, pulling out a couple of small bundles.

"Come, let us go out into the light," Toron said as he led her outside. He took a seat under the window, leaning against the mud bricks. Galadwen took off the quiver and its attached sword and bow before taking a seat beside him.

Toron took out one of the bundles. It was a soft leather cloth. "This," he said, holding the cloth up for her to inspect, "is all you need to take care of your sword. Being of quality elven make, the blade will never dull or weather. It only requires a clean with a soft leather like this after every use." He unsheathed the sword at his hip and gently laid it across his lap. Taking the leather cloth, he started at the hilt end and with big long strokes, cleaned the blade. "Although the blade will not dull, some things, such as orc blood, will damage it if left to set on the blade, so it must be cleaned," Toron said as he worked. After a dozen strokes, he flipped the sword and did the same to the other side. "If the sword does not get enough use, the leather grip will need oiling, but if you practice with it every day, your hands will keep it conditioned." He lifted the blade and inspected both sides in the light. Satisfied, he sheathed it. "Here," he said, passing her the cloth, "now you can clean your blade."

Galadwen took the offered cloth and for the first time, hesitantly unsheathed her sword. It was heavy in her hand. Not so much a physical weight, but more a heavy dread at the thought of having to use it. She slowly laid it on her lap, then very carefully began to clean it with the same long strokes Toron had used. After a dozen strokes, she turned the blade over and did the same to the other side, under Toron's watchful gaze. Once completed, she lifted the blade to inspect it. It had been spotless before she started, so she was glad to see it still was. She looked to Toron who gave her a small smile of encouragement. Galadwen sheathed her sword.

"Good," he said. "Keep the cloth. If it gets dirty, rinse it in water. Now on to the bow."

Toron took out the other bundle, unwrapping the soft leather cloth to reveal a small glass vial full of a golden liquid and a stiff cloth smelling of beeswax.

"The bow itself does not need much attention, just a wipe down, like the sword, when it gets dirty. The bowstring requires the most care to ensure it stays strong and supple. Two drops of this," Toron said, holding up the vial, "on your finger. Rub your finger and thumb together then rub them along the string in the direction of the grain." Toron passed her the vial. Unstopping it, Galadwen let two drops fall onto her index finger, rubbing them into her thumb. Then passing the vial back to Toron she took out her bowstring and ran it between her finger and thumb.

"Good," Toron said. "Do this half a dozen times, each time turning the string so every side is coated." Galadwen did as instructed while Toron continued to talk. "Treat the bowstring once a week to protect it from drying out or absorbing moisture. Even with this treatment, prolonged moisture like rain is not good for it. It will significantly shorten the lifespan of the string. If you must use the bow in the rain, the only way to protect the string is to coat it in beeswax." He opened the stiff cloth to reveal a small bar of wax.

"To coat the string, rub the bar of wax down it in the direction of the grain at least a dozen times when the bow is strung. It depends on how warm the wax is. You want it thoroughly coated, but not so much that it loses its suppleness. The wax will not stay watertight with prolonged use and must be reapplied regularly. When the wax is no longer needed, it must be cleaned off the string to prevent it absorbing which will cause the string to stiffen. The easiest way is to scrape it off with a knife, then use a rough cloth to wipe off any remaining. It is a lengthy process so is only done at times of great need. Unfortunately, I do not have time to show you now." He wrapped the wax and vial back up and passed her the bundle. "Here, these are spare, so they are now yours."

"Thank you Toron," Galadwen replied as she accepted the bundle.

"The final thing is your arrows," Toron said, taking an arrow from her quiver. "After each use, if you able to retrieve them, you must carefully check their condition. Check the tip is straight and secure," he said, inspecting the tip. "Check the shaft is free of any cracks or chips, and finally check the fletching. The feathers should be completely symmetrical for a straight flight. If anything is not perfect on your arrow, I would advise to not use it, but in the wild, you may not have a choice. Ideal conditions are a rarity." He returned the arrow to her quiver.

"There will be a lot you will learn over the next few weeks, but if you only take one thing away from it all, it should be this. Care for your weapons as if your life depended on it because one day it will."

"Thank you Toron," Galadwen said. "I will," she replied earnestly.

He smiled at her reply. "I still have a little time before sunset if you would like to sit and talk with me," Toron said in what Galadwen recognised as a dialect of Westron.

"Yes of course, as long as you have nothing more important to do," Galadwen replied in what she thought was correct response for that dialect.

"Not at all," Toron said with a smile as he leaned back against the mud bricks. Galadwen moved to sit beside him. The bricks, although rough, were warm and sturdy at her back.

"Tomorrow, the hard work will start," Toron said in the same dialect. "Let me warn you now that it will be boring, monotonous practice. You will practice the basics over and over until they are a reflex. It will be a test of your mental strength as much as your physical strength."

"I am ready for the challenge," Galadwen replied. "I would not dishonour your generosity by giving anything less than everything I can towards the training."

"That is good to hear. It may also be a good time to work on understanding your life force so you can recognise when you start to draw on it and stop yourself."

Galadwen nodded in agreement. They talked about her training until the sun had nearly set.

"If you would excuse me Galadwen," Toron said looking towards the canopy above with its soft golden glow of the setting sun. "I must get ready for duty. If you are willing to wait a moment, I would walk you to the King of Trees." It was a statement asked as a question.

"I'll wait," Galadwen agreed.

She watched as Toron quickly but gracefully rose and disappeared inside his quarters. With her newly heightened hearing, Galadwen felt uncomfortable at the intimate proximity to Toron getting changed into his armour. She tried not to listen, instead focusing on the noises in front of her. Listening to a beetle scuttle across in front of her, she extended her hearing out beyond the immediate area. The renewed strength of her hearing amazed her as she listened to the sounds of every insect move about the clearing, identifying them as she went. Galadwen watched a swallow fly past and listened to the beat of its wings. Stretching her hearing, like stretching a muscle, she listened for things beyond the clearing. She could hear three elves talking on the other side of a mallorn tree some distance in front of her. Not wanting to listen in on a private conversation, Galadwen was moving her attention elsewhere until she heard her name mentioned.

"Galadwen should never have been allowed to stay in the first place," said a female voice.

"It is not her fault she was conceived the way she was. Our Lady is the one to blame, not Galadwen," said a second female voice.

"You are right, we should not blame the poor girl," a third voice said. "But it is treachery to accuse Our Lady of what you are implying. If Lord Celeborn could forgive Our Lady's transgression, then so should we."

"Lord Celeborn is too good for Our Lady," said the first voice.

Galadwen knew she should not have been listening in on a private conversation, but now she was, she couldn't stop.

"But even he did not completely forgive Lady Galadriel," said the second voice.

"Why do you say that?" asked the third.

"He still refused to raise the child as his own."

"But there was no prerequisite for him to do so," replied the third. "And if he had, many would have refused them as leaders."

"We all know the arguments, but the truth of the matter is that both Our Lord and Lady chose their own power over Galadwen. She has been all but shunned since birth."

"And look what good it has done us," said the first. "Orcs within our borders for the first time since Sauron. Galadwen should never have been born, and she will bring us nothing but trouble. The sooner she leaves here, the better."

"No!" exclaimed the second.

"How can you say such things?" demanded the third.

The door beside Galadwen opened, and she jumped at the noise. At the small fright, she could feel her body drawing on her life force, enhancing her senses and reactions. With her renewed strength, it was quite overwhelming. The thousands of noises she could now hear were deafening. Her eyes were blinded by all the extra colours. She could feel every muscle and nerve of her body all at once, overwhelming her mind with information.

"Are you all right?" Toron asked. The sound of his voice was so loud she wanted to block her ears, but it helped to drown out the other sounds. Galadwen focused her mind on him. Listening to his steady heartbeat and focusing on his concerned eyes, she was able to stop herself drawing on her life force. The world dulled back down to a manageable level.

"I think you're right about studying my life force. I seem to draw on it without meaning to. And now that I'm stronger, it is a little overwhelming when I do."

Galadwen accepted Toron's offered hand as she stood up. He put her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Well it is a good that you can now recognise when you draw on it," he said as they started to walk towards the Great Tree. "I am excited to see you learn to control it."

"Do you think I will?" she asked.

"Did you not just stop yourself from drawing on it then?" he asked.

"I did."

"So then you are already halfway there," he replied with a kind smile.

After watching Toron start up the stairs of the Great Tree, Galadwen wandered the paths of Caras Galadhon, thinking on all she had learned of herself, Toron, and the people of Lothlorien. Thinking of the conversation between the three women she had overheard earlier, Galadwen realised that she had always known her mother had chosen the people of Lothlorien over her own daughter. But it had been hard to hear, none the less.

On a happier note, she was starting to see that not all the other elves of Lothlorien hated her like she had always believed. One of the women had even taken Galadwen's side against her companions. And the elves that she had met since Toron had taken her under his wing had been nothing but kind. As if to emphasize her realization, a small group of elves, passing her in the opposite direction, offered her smiles and greetings in passing.

Although it was nice to feel as if she was finally a part of their community, Galadwen was only too aware that her time in Lothlorien was coming to a close. In a few shorts weeks, she would have to leave. Making friends and getting attached was only going to make leaving the only place she had known, that much harder. Especially since her mother had foreseen that she would never return.

Galadwen had just decided that she would return home to convince Nestor she was fit to start training when she heard someone call out her name. Surprised, she turned to see Cullas walking quickly towards her. No one had ever called out to her before. She felt an irrational desire to flee. But this woman was no threat. She was the sister of her tutor. She may be intimidating, but Galadwen was done hiding and running from those things that scared her.

"Good evening Cullas," Galadwen said as the woman approached. "Are you well?" she asked, puzzling over why Cullas wanted to speak with her.

"Evening Galadwen," Cullas replied with a smile. "Yes, I am quite well. How are you?"

"I am very well," she replied, hesitantly returning her smile.

"Good," Cullas said. "How is training going? How do you find the bow?"

"I haven't used it yet. We start combat training tomorrow."

"Oh," she said, looking abashed. "I heard in the market today that you will be leaving Lothlorien by yourself in a month's time. I had assumed you would be training right away."

"I could not train any earlier, as my body has been recovering from the wound I took at the hand of the orcs," Galadwen explained.

"Yes, of course." She stepped closer to her and lowered her voice to barely a whisper. "Don't leave because a few jealous old fossils threaten to make trouble. There are many here who feel you have been treated unfairly and will stand by you if you wish to stay."

Galadwen was surprised at her words and the underlying kindness. She had never imagined there would be elves in Lothlorien, other than Nestor, who would stand up for her against the high court elves. That thought filled her heart with warmth and gratitude. She took Cullas's hand in her own.

"Thank you for your kind words. They bring me a comfort I had long wished for," she said. "So please take some comfort in my words. I do not leave because of any pressure within Lothlorien to do so. I leave for my own reasons, for things that are taking place outside of our borders."

"What things?" Cullas asked. "I was not aware you had left Lothlorien before."

"I haven't," she replied. "But I do not believe that orc attack was random. There is a darkness building in the world outside of these lands, and I wish to do what I can to stop it."

"But you are not a warrior," Cullas rebutted. "You don't even know how to fight. What can you do to stop this darkness you talk about?"

"I don't know what help I can be, but I do know I must do something," she replied. "So I will learn to fight."

"But you cannot possibly learn enough in a month to survive beyond our borders alone." Cullas was talking in a quick, agitated tone. "My brother's other pupils trained with him for years before they travelled alone. Why must you go alone and so soon?"

"Please, ease your fears," Galadwen said, honoured at the concern Cullas was showing for her safety. "I do not go into the world blindly. I have the Sight, so I have seen when and where I am needed. Our Lady is giving me as much time as she can. I will honour her by learning all I can in the time I have, as failure is not an option. I will be ready when the time comes."

"But you are so young. How can you be so sure?" she asked.

Faced with Cullas's uncertainty and fear, Galadwen could feel her own certainty fortified. It was the reason she had been given her gift, the reason she had seen all the pain and suffering. All that death and despair had given her the determination to face down her own fears and do what she must. It was the reason her short years had been filled with loneliness and isolation. She had little to hold her back.

"In deciding to help stop the darkness, I have discovered my purpose in this life," she replied. "You honour me with your concern for my safety, Cullas. But do not waste your fears on me. Fear for what still may befall this world, even if I succeed."

"My concern for your safety is not as honourable as you believe," Cullas admitted. "I also fear what your death would do to my brother."

"Surely you do not think Toron so controlled by his emotions that the death of a student would drive him to do the unthinkable?" Galadwen asked in surprise.

"Not for a student," Cullas agreed. "But I have never known Toron to take walks, arm in arm, with any student, or friend. Not even myself, his family."

"You are mistaken Cullas," Galaden said. "Toron has helped me through the recovery of my wound, and has been very generous with his knowledge, but I have seen the one who my heart belongs to, and it is not him."

"You are sure?" she asked.

Galadwen nodded with a smile. "Ease your fears Cullas, I will not take your brother's heart then leave him."

"Thank you Galadwen," she replied with a mixed look of embarrassment and relief. "You are more gracious than many who walk amongst us. Please, if there is anything I can ever do for you, do not hesitate to ask. It would be my honour."

"Thank you Cullas," Galadwen said with a grateful nod of her head.

Cullas stepped back, took a small bow, then turned and walked back the way she had come.

Stunned at the conversation she had just had with Cullas, and then her abrupt departure, Galadwen turned and continued home.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Student

**Chapter 5 - The Student**

Galadwen pulled the bow back as Toron had shown her. She held the drawn bow, feeling the tension across her back and shoulders.

"Good," Toron said from behind her. "Now check your weight is centred." She shifted her weight between her feet, carefully placed just over a shoulder-width apart, letting her body find it's centre. "Lower your elbow slightly," he said as his fingers gently touched her elbow and moved it to the required location. "You should feel comfortable holding the bow drawn. Every time you draw it, I want you to hold this exact position, letting your body become familiar with it. It needs to become an instinctual reaction."

She did as he asked, feeling like she was carved from stone, except for her slow controlled breaths. Breathing into her stomach to stop the breaths moving the bow, her only movement was the flutter of the arrow's fetched feathers next to her cheek with every breath. With her renewed strength and senses, Galadwen could tell by the smell that filled her nose that the feather had belonged to a blue-billed duck.

"Focus down the arrow's shaft. See the direction it will go. Picture the curve of flight, allowing for the distance it must travel, aim it at the target. Then between breaths, fire when you are ready."

Galadwen watched the arrow speed away from her. It didn't follow the exact path she had pictured and landed a few yards from the distant target.

"Good," Toron said. "Again."

Galadwen thought the shot, like all her others this morning, was far from good, but without comment, she reached for another arrow in her quiver and reloaded the bow. This time, Toron adjusted the position of the bow and her drawn arm. When she loosed the arrow, it flew too high, sailing over the target and into the bushes beyond.

"Your weight was too far back that time," Toron said as Galadwen reached for another arrow with a sigh. "Remember to settle your balance before you let fly."

With the last arrow in her quiver, Galadwen drew the bow, settled her balance, imagined the track of the arrow, then let loose. It nearly followed the line she had imagined, coming to land with a thud on the very edge of the top right corner of the target.

"Hah!" she exclaimed. "I hit it."

Toron was grinning at her. "Well done Galadwen! We may make a warrior out of you yet."

Galadwen's heart sung. She wanted to sing, spin, jump, and dance for joy. But as was appropriate for the elves of Lothlorien, she settled for a smile.

"I think that is enough archery for today," he said, still smiling. "Collect your arrows and then we will move on to the sword."

After all her arrows were back in the quiver, Galadwen stood opposite Toron as he gave his instructions.

"Usually, we would start with practice swords to prevent any unintentional injury," he said. "But you do not have the luxury of time to learn with a practice sword, then become familiar with your own sword. So we will go carefully."

He drew his sword and indicated Galadwen do the same. The curved sword felt alien in her hand, but so had the bow at first. After showing her how to hold it and how to position her body, the clearing was soon filled with the slow, steady clang of metal on metal. With each stroke, Toron offered a word of encouragement or correction. They ran through the same few steps and strokes again and again, until well into the afternoon. After so much repetition, Galadwen felt she could have done those steps in with her eyes closed.

The sword was just starting to feel less awkward in her hand when Toron called a halt to the weapons training.

"Although time is of the essence, I am cautious of draining you of your strength, so we will stop for today," he said as he led them out of the training clearing. "But the rest of the afternoon will not be wasted. You may have seen the collection of books in my quarters. They cover the bare minimum you will need to know about the plants, animals, peoples and their cultures. I expect you to read them all before you leave Lothlorien. Every few days, we will make time to discuss what you have read."

"That sounds easy enough," Galadwen replied.

"Perhaps, but they are not all in Sindarin or Quenya. How are you at reading Khuzdul and Westron?" he asked.

"Oh," said Galadwen, realising the full difficulty of the task he had set for her. "Do you not have translated copies?" she asked.

"Things are always lost in translation," he replied. "And there will be no translator for you out in the world, particularly if you're travelling alone. You must learn these languages. But I am here if you have any questions."

"Thank you Toron," Galadwen replied with a smile. As Toron returned her smile, Cullas's words ran through her mind. She didn't have a lot of experience with having friends, so didn't know if his feelings were as platonic as her own. Perhaps there were signs he was giving her that she was missing because she didn't know what to look for. Or perhaps it was as she believed, a friendship between student and master. There was only one way to know for sure.

"Toron," Galadwen said.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Are we friends?" she asked.

"Yes, I would like to think so," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I have not had a friend before," she replied, looking away in embarrassment. "I am not really sure what it is."

"Well you have a friend now," he said, taking her hand and putting it in the crook of his elbow like he had done before.

When they arrived at his quarters, Toron picked a couple of books and a scroll for her. Both books were in Sindarin. One was a large book on the plants of Middle Earth and the other was on the geography.

"The Plants of Middle Earth is very extensive and quite accurate. The Natural Land and Formations of Middle Earth was written many centuries ago, so is a bit out of date. The scroll is full of my own observations, and is to be read in conjunction with it," Toron said. "When you're done with those, we will discuss what you have learnt before I give you the next lot."

Galadwen thanked him for the books, then feeling her dismissal, excused herself from the hut.

She had thought to study at home but for some reason, she felt her body drawing her towards the King of All Trees. It had been over a day since she'd sat with him, and her body was obviously needing some of his strength.

She set herself up on the usual bench, tucked in between the large roots. Touching a palm to the Great Tree, she greeted him, before settling down to start her reading. While she read of the many plants of Middle Earth, she could feel the life force of the greatest plant in Middle Earth flowing through her.

When the sun had set and darkness was coming on, Galadwen was still only part way through the book, but her mind was swarming with different types of plants, their characteristics, properties and uses. Closing the book, she sent a thank you to the King of Trees before standing and heading home. Surprisingly, her body felt even more invigorated than before. The Great Tree had been blessing her with his strength while she studied, and now she felt as if she could run for days without needing to rest.

Nestor was out again, but she had left food out for her. While she ate, Galadwen noticed things about her tree that she had not noticed in a long time. The starlight lit the canopy above her in a soft glow, as a gentle breeze fluttered through the silver leaves. She could almost feel the tree stretch its limbs in a sigh as if tossing in it's slumber. But the tree was not completely asleep. The branches of her seat still moved for her, and the tree still gave her strength at her request. It was still conscious while it slept.

Galadwen wished she could do the same when viewing the future. Perhaps she could. It was not something she had tried before, but if she could master it, her safety would no longer be compromised whenever she viewed the future. To master that skill would be to turn a weakness on her journey into an unimaginable asset. But since it took years to learn the limited control she now had with her gift, she doubted it would be something that she could achieve in the limited time she had left in the safety of Lothlorien. Galadwen asked the branches of the chair to lean back, holding her more securely. Just because she may not succeed, was no reason to not try. She closed her eyes and entered the future.

When Nestor came home, midnight had passed. Galadwen sat up with an exhausted sigh.

"That boy better not be working you too hard," Nestor said.

Galadwen stood with a smile. "Nay Mam," she replied, embracing her in greeting. "I am working myself too hard. But I will rest now."

"Good," Nestor replied. "How does the training go?"

Galadwen told her of the days training and the challenge she had set herself.

"I agree," Nestor said. "Learning to remain conscious while dreaming of the future would greatly increase your safety. Without that skill, I would advise against any dreaming outside of these borders. The danger would be too high."

"Yes," agreed Galadwen, then changed the subject. "So am I well enough to begin your tuition?" she asked.

Nestor smiled at her. "I knew you would not let me forget my promise. But is it really worth your time? I do not believe you will have a use for it outside of these borders. Surely there are more important things you need to learn."

"Yes, my time is limited, and there are other things that are more important for my journey that I should be learning, but I love talking to the trees. I want to learn this for me," she said, holding her hand to her heart.

Nestor smiled. "And so I will teach you," she said, taking a seat at the table, having the small branches of the chair move to fit her form. "The first step is to understand the trees. When you talk to the trunk or branches of the tree, is it the same?"

"Nay," Galadwen replied. "But it is also different between each tree."

"Yes, each tree has it's own personality, but also, each part of a tree is slightly different," Nestor said. "They are the same tree, but at different ages. Take our tree Laerorneth. Her trunk is the oldest and wisest part of her. It carries her knowledge of the years past, back to when her first sprout emerged from the ground. When you talk to the trunk, it is like talking to a great-grandmother, full of strength and wisdom. Then the thick branches that have seen many years are like talking to an old parent. And up it goes, each smaller, younger branch is a younger version of Laerorneth. Right up to the smallest twigs that are like young children playing with their leaves in the wind.

"So when you talk to these branches," she said, placing a hand on the chair. "You are talking to an adolescent Laerorneth, not quite at adulthood. For trees to pass messages, you must talk to the children. But like most children, they will only do something because they think it will be fun. So you must convince them that it is a game."

Nestor closed her eyes and sung to the chair of new growth, causing small branches with new leaves to sprout around the edge. The tempo of her song changed to one Galadwen had not heard before. Her clear voice soon had the new twigs on her chair moving to the fast jig. Then the twigs on Galadwen's chair took up the dance, along with those above the table. She heard the leaves in the canopy start to move, travelling up to the highest reaches of Laerorneth. Then starting at Nestor's chair, the twigs stilled the leaves, until the whole canopy was quiet.

"I asked Laerorneth what story the wind has to tell on this night," Nestor said as she opened her eyes.

"And what did they say?" Galadwen asked.

"Nothing yet," Nestor replied with a smile. "The message was passed on, and now we wait to get a reply."

"How long do you wait?" she asked.

"It depends on the question," Nestor replied. "When Lady Galadriel asked the trees to look for you, it was nearly a day before she heard anything back. But I have asked Laerorneth a much simpler question which doesn't require her to pass it on to any other trees, so we should have an answer soon."

"But if she doesn't have to pass on the message, couldn't you have just asked her the usual way?" Galadwen asked.

"Yes," she replied. "But the method I used is the same for passing messages from tree to tree. Although to actually pass a message from tree to tree is significantly more complicated, as you must take into account the personality of the trees you are passing to, and whether they wish to play your game and pass the message on. It is not just your relationship with the other trees, it is also the tree you start with, and their relationship with the other trees. Because of this, many trees refuse to pass on the message, so the message often dies out before you have achieved your objective. The only tree within Lothlorien that all the trees will answer is Valief Tar-Vardarianna*. Any message passed through him will be carried by all the trees. That is how Our Lady is able to pass messages through the trees."

A flicker of leaves in the canopy above slowly travelled down, as if an invisible force was slowly falling through the tree canopy towards Nestor. When the flicker reached Nestor, she closed her eyes. Galadwen didn't know if she was listening or feeling what the twigs were saying to her, but soon they stopped their unusual movement.

"There is a westerly breeze, with a cold bite, fresh off the heights of the Misty Mountains," spoke Nestor. "A storm blows on the peaks and the smell of stone dust suggests the mountain giants are awake. The air whispers of filth and death. Of orcs in the mountains. Their numbers above ground are still low, but their stench is seeping out of cracks in the mountains where they are multiplying quickly. The wind cautions that if left unchecked, they will soon swarm the lower hills."

"The low lands?" Galadwen asked, concern giving a higher pitch to her voice. "They must be stopped before they spread. We must tell Lady Galadriel."

"She knows my child," Nestor replied. "And Our Lady will act when the time is ready."

"When?" she demanded. "When they are swarming at our borders? When the rest of Middle Earth is filled with death and destruction?"

"Orcs are tricky creatures, and to fight them in their mountains is dangerous, even for elves," Nestor calmly explained. "I suspect she is waiting for something, or a someone, to draw them out. I suspect she will split her army in two. One to cut off the orcs and protect that someone who drew them out, and the other half to flank them and prevent any retreat."

"She's waiting for me?" Galadwen asked, leaning back in her chair in surprise.

"I suspect so," Nestor replied.

In the ensuing silence, Galadwen contemplated the brilliance of the plan. It would allow her to travel the first part of her journey protected from the dangers from the west while setting a trap for the orcs so they could be cleared from the mountains. The fact that she was bait didn't slip past her, but neither would it slip past those who said Galadriel had in all but words acknowledged her. Therefore, Galadriel would be securing her ruling power, while clearing the threat from the west, and protecting her daughter. There was only one hole in the plan.

"Why would all the orcs come after me?" she asked.

"Whoever leads these orcs knew the company sent into our borders would not leave here alive," Nestor replied. "Whatever they were after must have been worth the large sacrifice, and not something they will let get away a second time."

"Assuming you are correct and it is me they were after."

Nestor gave a small nod in agreement.

"Now child," she said. "Do you wish to try passing messages through the children?"

"Yes Mam," Galadwen said. She closed her eyes and started singing the same tune Nestor had. It was of course slightly different, as she was not a mimic, but the twigs around her still started to twist their leaves. She asked her question, but there was no change to the beat of the twigs around her. After several attempts, she stopped singing and the leaves stilled.

"What am I doing wrong?" she asked Nestor.

"I do not know my child," Nestor replied. "They hear your song, but not your question. Perhaps you need to spend more time talking to the twigs and their leaves. You must know and understand each other for this to work."

"Yes Mam," Galadwen replied with a nod. She looked at the twigs and leaves by her right arm. When talking to the branches of the chair, communication was made clearer with physical contact. So she gently touched the twig. She could almost feel it twitch under her finger. Gently moving her finger up the twig and around the leaf and back down the twig. After repeating the movement a couple of times, the twig twitched at her touch.

"You are tickling it, my child," Nestor said with a grin from across the table.

Galadwen smiled down at the twig and stroked it again, making it twitch again. The leaves around her started to twitch slightly. They wanted to be tickled as well. So Galadwen complied, stroking each one. Soon both her hands were running over the leaves along the outside of her chair in smooth, graceful strokes. She started to sing an elflings lullaby to the twigs and they began to sway with her touch and voice. She imagined herself not singing to twigs and leaves, but a tutor singing to elflings, so small and innocent.

The twigs seemed happy with the comparison as all those around her joined in, rocking with the beat of the lullaby. When the song finished, the leaves continued to flutter, moving in waves away from her. Galadwen leaned back in her chair with a tired but content sigh.

"Well done child," Nestor said. "You will have them passing messages for you in no time. But for now, I think you should rest."

Galadwen agreed and retired to her sleeping mat, still on the platform in their living room. It was time to dream of the future.

*Translation: The King of All Trees


	6. Chapter 6 - The Warrior

**Chapter 6 - The Warrior**

With all her study, Galadwen found the days slipping away. After the first week, Toron increased her weapons training to a full day. She now trained from dawn until dusk, with only an hour break at noon to eat and discuss what she was reading. Then her nights were filled with reading, singing to Laerorneth, and dreaming.

She progressed steadily with the bow and sword, but it was not quick enough for Toron. Each day he would push her harder and harder. The first few hours of the morning were filled with continuous, repetitive firing of arrows until her arms felt heavy with fatigue. Toron had her hitting multiple targets, then moving over and around obstacles while she did. As soon as she hit more targets than she missed, he would up the difficulty. Forcing her to work harder and fight through the feeling of never being good enough.

Practice with the sword was even more challenging. They would spend most of the day doing drills. Repeating the same set of strokes over and over before moving on to the next one. Then for the last hour, Toron would swap his sword for a practice one and attack. At first, she was disarmed or at sword point before she could even take a breath. After a couple of weeks, she could hold him off for a dozen strikes or so, but would receive plenty of bruises to her arms and body for the effort. By the end of the third week, she was only just managing to hold him off for a couple of minutes and had a feeling he was not attacking to anywhere near his full strength.

"If this was a real blade," Toron said to her one evening, as Galadwen limped out of reach of his sword. "You would be mortally wounded now. Missing an arm and possibly a leg. You must focus Galadwen. Read my body, predict what I'm going to do. I have taught you how to defend from each of these strikes. You do not have the luxury of learning from years of practice and experience. You must learn now."

"Yes Toron," Galadwen replied as she raised her sword in preparation for the next attack.

He came at her again. A blur of steel as the sword rained down on her, blow after blow. She blocked a couple, before taking a hard one to her shoulder. Stumbling out of his reach, Galadwen took a second to reset herself.

"You have skill enough to perhaps hold off an armed but untrained opponent," Toron said as she slowly circled him. "But against a skilled warrior, you would be no more threat than a piece of meat to wet their blade on."

In anger at his words, Galadwen charged at him, but with all her efforts, he calmly held her off.

"I do not say this to be cruel or callous," he calmly said as she continued her ferocious but ineffective attack. "I say them only to help you realise how futile the quest you have set yourself is. The enemy will not be as easy or forgiving as I am."

"Then don't be," Galadwen said between clenched teeth as she continued to try and find a way through his defences.

"As you wish," Toron said, with a thin smile. He stopped her sword with a swing of his own. The force of the two swords hitting sent a jarring shiver up her arm. Toron didn't give her time to recover. Instead, he went for the same spot on her leg as before. It was tender and Galadwen couldn't stop herself stumbling in pain, nearly letting her sword slip from her hands. Fortunately, she managed to hold on to it and raise it quick enough to block his next strike to her shoulder. His blows came quick and fast, as she struggled to block them all. More and more landed on her until one of his blows knocked her to her knees, followed by another blow that caused her sword to fly out of her fingers. Toron brought his practice sword down to rest on her neck.

"You are dead Galadwen," he said with a stony voice.

"Yes Toron," she replied between gasps for air. She blinked sweat out of her eyes. After an hour of fighting off Toron, she was covered in sweat and dirt, and feeling very mortal. It took a lot for an elf to sweat, but Galadwen was discovering that her mixed blood was very obvious with any extreme physical exertion. To put it simply, she stunk, even to herself. Meanwhile, Toron, who had been using a heavier practice sword, swinging it around with such speed, force and grace that it made Galadwen look a child, did not have even one hair out of place.

Toron lowered his sword from her neck and Galadwen collected her own sword.

"I think that is enough for today," Toron said, taking a step back.

"But it is not yet sunset," Galadwen protested as she wearily stood up.

"Yes, but you are exhausted," he replied.

"I am not yet too tired to give up." She stood at the ready.

"It is not giving up to know when to leave it for another day," he said, turning to leave.

"The days are short," Galadwen replied. "And I do not have an unlimited amount. I must learn." She drew strength into her, and with a battle cry, charged him.

In drawing her strength, she had drawn in her life force. It gave speed to her sword and clarity to her sight. Toron spun away from her first strike, and she followed him. His sword came up to block her second strike. She saw surprise flash across his face at the speed in which her blow came. It was followed by a look of realisation and a stony determination. If she was willing to use her life force in training, he would push her until she conceded.

Toron blocked her next blow, then spun out of her line of attack. The life force flowing through Galadwen prevented her from losing her balance at the sudden change in direction and gave her the speed to block Toron's blow as he came on the attack. His blows came at her, faster than they ever had before, but at each one, her sword was there to meet his. She dodged one of his blows and turned the attack back onto him.

The speed at which she moved surprised even herself. It was as if the world around her had slowed down. Almost like how she saw the immediate future. She thought that maybe the life force might help her achieve that which she had been struggling to do for the last couple of weeks. A waking dream. To see the future with one part of her mind while conscious of her surroundings with the other. Galadwen knew it was not wise to try such a thing now, but Toron had turned the attack back onto her with a speed to match her own. If she was to know her own worth, now was the time.

Galadwen closed her eyes and was suddenly in the immediate future. Toron moved at the same speed he had before but was one step ahead of where he had been. She was in the future but could still feel the sword in her hand in the present. She raised the sword to meet the strike she had just seen Toron take. But her action affected the future, and Toron blurred before her. In an instant, she saw that he was not blurred. There were two of him filling the same space. One was more faint. Like a shadow, that could move separately from him. It was not unlike the clear or faded paths of the future that she would follow. There were two possibilities for his next strike, one more probable than the other. She moved her body to defend against the more probable strike. And as she did, Galadwen saw Toron blur again. Her choices were affecting his next move. As she felt his sword hit her's, she watched his next move. There were three possibilities this time, although one was still more clear than the other two. She moved to defend it.

After a couple more strokes, always taking the most likely option, Galadwen felt her confidence building. It was becoming easy to defend against him. So taking what he had taught her, Galadwen sidestepped the next strike and parried with her own. With her decision to strike, Toron blurred to defend. With each of her strikes, she watched Toron blur as her decision affected his decision in the immediate future.

Together they spun, flashing swords and flowing bodies, in a graceful dance that Galadwen saw before she heard or felt it. Even moving as fast as they were, she still had time to marvel at the way her body moved. With the life force flowing through her, she had such speed, control, and grace, that in all her short years, she had never seen the like before. And Toron was matching her.

The first time Toron took a less likely option, Galadwen nearly took a full blow to her ribs. She managed to spin with the blow. It didn't knock her to the ground but it still hit hard. Hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. She felt the pain, but through the life force, it was only a distant recognition, an inconsequential observation. Continuing her spin, she deflected his next strike before coming in with one of hers. Toron deflected it, and when he next blurred into multiple possibilities, Galadwen tried to defend for the two or three she could see. It was significantly harder trying to defend herself from multiple possible attacks. She had the feeling she was tying herself up in knots and pushing her body in ways it did not want to go.

The longer they fought, the more possibilities would come up. Toron was thinking of more options for each strike. It was becoming impossible to completely defend all of the possibilities. More and more of his strikes were landing. As another blow hit her right leg, Galadwen realised she was loosing. She lacked the knowledge and skill to continue to defend herself against such a skilled and adaptable opponent.

His next blow knocked the sword from her hands. She watched it arc over Toron and land beyond him. Stepping to the side of his next strike, she dodged his follow-up blow and dove into the ground past him. Collecting her sword in her hand, Galadwen turned the dive into a roll, to finish standing a few paces from him.

As she stood, Galadwen opened her eyes to reveal the quiet secluded clearing was now surrounded with elves. She looked around in surprise as they all stared back, standing like statues in the dim evening light. A sea of expressionless faces staring at her. Toron turned to face her and stopped. After watching the blurred figure of him for so long, it was strange to see him completely in focus. In the dusk light, his clothes looked dishevelled and his hair was falling over his eyes. His breathing was faster than usual, but his face was a calm mask as he studied her.

In the deafening stillness, someone started to clap. The noise shocked the stillness that had settled on the clearing as others joined in. Galadwen bowed her head in embarrassment, but a smile of pleasure spread across her face. The clapping slowly faded, and with it, the elves slipped into the gathering darkness.

Throughout it all, Toron had not moved. His expressionless face did not change. When the last of the elves left and they were finally alone again, he spoke.

"You drew on your life force," he said.

"Yes," Galadwen replied.

"You used it to see what I was going to do."

"Yes," she replied.

"You play with fire Galadwen," he said. "To draw on it so readily is dangerous."

Now she had stopped moving, Galadwen had stopped drawing on her life force. It left her body drained and aching. She wanted to sit and rest but refused to show weakness to Toron, lest he use it as confirmation that he was right.

"Yes," she agreed. "But if my life depended on it, doing so would allow me to live."

"Against most opponents, but not all," he replied. "You can not depend on it because you will not be guaranteed a safe place to recover."

"I understand Toron," Galadwen said. "I will only use my life force when no other option is available."

"Good," he said, a smile finally cracking through his mask. "You did well."

Galadwen smiled back, basking in his praise.

"I am late for duty. I must go," Toron said. With a small bow, he jogged out of the clearing.

As soon as he was gone, Galadwen stumbled over to where her bow and sheath rested against a tree. Bending over to pick up the sheath, her body decided fighting gravity was no longer a worthy battle. Turning the fall into a slide down the trunk, she collapsed against the tree in a less than graceful manner. A complete contrast to how she had felt moments earlier. As utter exhaustion took over, Galadwen wearily sheathed her sword.

Touching the tree, she thanked it for its support and asked it for strength. It was not a tree she had spoken to before, but after a moment, she felt it's strength flow through her. With a sigh, she leaned back on the tree and closed her eyes.

When Galadwen opened her eyes again, the clearing was the dark of the deep night. She felt greatly restored. Still not back to how she had been, but close enough. Galadwen thanked the tree, then collecting her weapons, she stood and returned home.

Climbing the final steps, Galadwen's body demanded more rest. She heard Nestor singing on her sleeping landing. Too tired for conversation, Galadwen quietly undressed and fell into her sleeping roll.

Within the tangled web of the future, Galadwen quickly found the familiar path of the halfling. She could feel the ring in his possession. It watched her as she watched the halfling. He was flying on a giant eagle into the sunrise. She marvelled to see such a thing. To fly with the eagles was a great honour only granted to a fortunate few. To see the world as they saw it, like tiny miniatures far below, the world blurring away in the distance, was a magical sight. For one of the first times ever, Galadwen was thankful for her gift. It had allowed her to see such a thing.

Galadwen regretfully left the halfling on the eagle to check over her own future. She was pleased to see on many occasions, her death was now less likely. What she had discovered fighting Toron was going to help her survival and her ability to complete her quest. The chance of her saving the halfling and surviving was still so small that she struggled to see the path. But as long as it was there, she had hope.

Every time she looked too far ahead, she would see the golden-haired elf. In seeing him, her heart will skip a beat and would pull at her to follow him. The more she refused, the harder it was, until like every night since she had first seen him, she would give in. It was a guilty pleasure. To watch him smile and laugh. To see him gracefully move or sit in quiet contemplation. Every night, she would finish her dreaming with watching what he was going to do the next day. She knew it was wrong of her to use her gifts in such a way, but his pull was too strong. She could not deny herself. Particularly when seeing him helped her to not dwell on all the death she had seen, especially her own.

She woke slowly, trying to keep herself in the dream state while conscious. Without the power of her life force, she could not hold it for long, particularly when she heard voices talking about her.

"I am glad to see you and Galadwen are becoming close. She needs friends, someone she can talk to other than me. Thank you for everything you are doing for her," Nestor said in a warm voice.

"I am honoured to be her friend and help her how I can," he replied. "She is quite remarkable. Not just in her gift to see the future, which was incredible to see yesterday. But also her skills with tree singing and her ability to learn so quickly. With all she has been through and missed out on, I am continuously amazed that she can be so caring and determined to help others. I often find myself in awe of her."

"Yes, she has had a difficult childhood, but you must also remember that there is much that she has not experienced for herself. She is still innocent in many things of this world. In things like love and knowing the difference between love for a friend and love for a mate."

"I am not sure I know what you are saying," Toron replied.

"I think you do Toron. I have been around long enough to know love when I see it."

"I care for her deeply, and endlessly worry about her safety. But that is friendship."

"You are devoted to her Toron," Nestor said.

"She is my student," he replied.

"When was the last time you slept?" Nestor asked. "You serve Our Lady all night and you serve her daughter all day. Even an elf in his prime needs a few hours of sleep a week."

"She has so much to learn in such a short time. If I don't teach her who will? I do not have time for sleep. Because if she doesn't learn, how long can she survive outside our borders? Even with all I can teach, I still fear it is not enough. How can you let her go?"

"She must go Toron."

"And go to her death?" he asked. "How can you say such a thing?"

"When you have seen as much of life as I have Toron, I hope you will realise what I have," Nestor replied in a voice showing her years. "The mortal peoples of this land are more fortunate than us, for they know they will die one day. And perhaps one day soon. That knowledge allows them to live more in the short years they have, than many elves who have lived thousands of years. It is not about the time you have on this earth, but what you do with that time. Galadwen has seen that her time and the time of all living creatures is limited, and she chooses to do something about it before it is too late. Who am I to tell her any different?"

"But she is so young and inexperienced," he said. "She will die." The pain in Toron's voice was undeniable.

"Perhaps you don't see it yet," Nestor said in a soothing voice. "But you will realise why this pains you soon enough. So I must warn you. She has seen the one that her heart will yearn for and I do not believe it is you. But even if it was, you must still be warned. Because she has told me that she has no intention of letting her heart distract her from the mission she has set for herself."

Galadwen felt this awkward conversation had been going long enough. She moved to let them know she was awake, before opening her eyes to reveal Nestor and Toron sitting at the table, with the early morning sun shining through the canopy above. Toron looked embarrassed, while Nestor looked amused.

"Toron," Galadwen said. "What are you doing here?"

"I was concerned when you did not meet me at dawn, so came to check you were well."

"I am sorry I did not meet you," she said as she climbed out of her sleeping roll and joined them at the table.

"You pushed yourself too hard yesterday," Toron said. "I should have stopped it."

"It was my choice," Galadwen said. "I must know what my limits are."

"Yes," Nestor said. "I heard it was quite a display. It was the talk of the market this morning." She pushed a bowl of food in front of Galadwen. "Going blow for blow with a master warrior at full speed. I did not know your training was progressing so quickly."

"It is not Mam," Galadwen said as she ravenously started in on the plate of food. "I used my sight to foresee his next move. I cheated."

"Nonsense girl," Nestor said. "You only used what weapons were available to you. Just because your opponent doesn't have the same weapons does not mean it is cheating. We fight against those who do not hold to any code except their own self-interest."

"Nestor is right," Toron said. "Orcs will not give you the honour of a fair fight."

"But you were so displeased with me yesterday," Galadwen replied.

"My anger was not that you used your gift against me, it was because you had to drain your life force to do so. What if I had not disarmed you when I did? You could have drained all your life force and killed yourself without even knowing you were doing it. It is something that must be used with extreme caution."

"Yes, I understand that, but I can not learn my limits unless I push them," Galadwen replied. Toron frowned at her, obviously unwilling to agree. "I hope you will be happy to know I saw the likelihood of my death has significantly decreased since yesterday."

"I am pleased to hear that," Toron replied. "But I would be happier to know that there was no chance of your death."

"We will all die if nothing is done to stop the destruction that is coming," Galadwen said. "So even if I stayed within the secure borders of Lothlorien, death would still find me, as it will you and Nestor and every living thing in Middle Earth."

"If such destruction is truly unavoidable, then should not Our Lord and Lady be informed so they can act to stop it?" Toron asked. "Why must it be you?"

"Lady Galadriel knows of what Galadwen has seen," Nestor said. "And I believe she would do more to help if she could, but she dares not. Outside Lothlorien, the world may be on the brink of destruction, but inside, we are on the brink of a civil war. There are some here that would strip her of her crown and banish her from the lands she created. You must have seen it Toron."

"I know there is a few that loudly disapprove of her rule, believing she does not have the best interests of her people at heart, but the majority of the people still support her," he replied.

"They would not dare to loudly disapprove if her crown was as secure as you believe. Those elves will soon realise that they cannot lock themselves within our borders and forever ignore what happens to the world outside, as it will affect us all. But until that time, Our Lord and Lady must rule carefully."

"And as I am one of the reasons for their discontent, if I leave, it will help secure her rule and allow her to act more directly in the future," Galadwen said. "This destruction will not be stopped by one person. It will take a fellowship of all free peoples of Middle Earth to even have a chance."

"So you must go, but why do it alone?" he asked. "Our Lady refused my request to accompany you, and I can not break my vows of service to her, otherwise I would follow you gladly. But there are others who can and will follow you. You do not have to do this alone."

"Thank you Toron, but no," Galadwen said. "I must and I will do this alone. For I am not a leader and pretending to be so would only cause more discontent within Lothlorien. You can not dissuade me otherwise."

Toron did not reply. He just stared at her, studying her. Although Galadwen felt uncomfortable under such a stare, she did not look away. He had to see her determination.

Eventually, Toron dropped his gaze. "I see you will have it no other way than your own," he said. "So I know no option other than to continue to do what I can to help you."

"Thank you Toron," Galadwen said.

He stood suddenly. "Rest today," Toron said. "Tomorrow we will prepare for an overnight excursion."

"Will you not be on duty?" Galadwen asked as he turned to leave.

"It is my night off," he replied over his shoulder as he left.

Galadwen listened to him descend the stairs.

"The Royal Guard only get one shift off a month," Nestor said. "So use the time with him well my child."

"I will Mam," she replied.

With the rest of the day before her, Galadwen pondered how best to use her time as she bathed off the day before's sweat. There was still so much more she needed to learn. And the problem with studying so many new areas, the more she learnt, the more she realised how little she knew. There were some things that she finally had to admit she did not have the time to study. Namely, tree singing.

Over the past few weeks, she had managed to get as far as Nestor, getting a message passed through the leaves on Laerorneth, but had so far been unsuccessful at getting any messages passed from tree to tree. It was a child's dream to be a tree singer. She no longer had time for childish dreams. Keeping herself alive during the next couple of months was far more important.

So with renewed determination, Galadwen dressed and collected her weapons. It was strange that such things had felt so foreign and had even scared her a few weeks ago. Now, she never felt completely dressed without the comfortable weight of her weapons on her back, that were now moving with each step, as she headed to the training area.

Using the archery targets that were still set up from the previous morning, Galadwen moved around the obstacles as she fired, just as she had the day before. After the first round, she managed to hit about the same number of targets as the previous day. Then for the second round, Galadwen drew on her life force as lightly as she could and closed her eyes. She could see the targets in the future, and before each shot, she positioned herself so the arrow would hit the target. It felt like it took a long time to get through the first round, pausing and adjusting before each shot. But opening her eyes and releasing her life force, Galadwen saw every target had an arrow through the dead centre.

She couldn't stop grinning as she collected her arrows from the centre of every target. Before today, she had only ever hit the centre of a target once, and Toron had been quick to inform her that it was only chance unless she could do it again. That morning she had shot all her arrows at the same target, to prove him wrong, only to find that none of her arrows would hit dead centre again.

But that was not the case today. During the next round, her pauses between shots were slightly shorter. Then, by the time it was noon, she no longer had to pause at all. While her body was firing an arrow, her mind was already confirming the exact position her body should be in for the next shot. Trying to only draw on the minimum amount of life force she needed to see the future, Galadwen could still feel her body spinning faster and more gracefully than normal. The bow was becoming a part of her, it belonged in her hand, and yearned to be fired. She was becoming a warrior.

Careful to not drain too much of her life force, Galadwen stopped at midday to rest against one of the mallorn trees on the edge of the clearing while she filled her stomach and quenched her thirst. Surprisingly, after hours of practice, she did not feel anywhere near as drained as she had the day before. She was learning to control how much of her life force she drew.

Galadwen knew she should use the afternoon to study, but reading, particularly in Khuzdul, was not her strong suit. It was such a harsh, arduous language to read. In fact, she would rather a week of gruelling training with Toron than to struggle through the rest of that book. So after her break, and with only a brief moment of guilt, she continued to practice her archery.

The afternoon flew by as quick as the arrows flew from her bow. As dusk approached, Galadwen felt her body tire slightly, so she took another break, resting against the same tree. When full dark of night had set in, she continued her practice. Although she had never fired arrows in the dark, with her elven senses at full strength and the slight use of her life force, the dark did little to slow her down or affect her accuracy. She practised late into the night until her body demanded respite. In the quiet dark of deep night, Galadwen walked the familiar path home for a few hours rest before dawn.


	7. Chapter 7 - The Traveller

**Chapter 7 - The Traveller**

Galadwen woke in the cool dawn light, with a sense of excitement and apprehension. Today she was going to camp out with Toron. It would be a small taste of what was going to come. And come it would, sooner rather than later. Last night she had seen the hobbit and company were in the home of a skin-changer, preparing to enter the Mirkwood Forest. If she did not leave soon, she would never catch them.

"Good morning my dear child," Nestor said as she approached with a bundle in her arms.

"Good morning Mam," Galadwen replied, standing up.

"I have something for you, child," Nestor said, offering her the bundle. "It is not much, but I hope it will help keep you safe and comfortable."

Galadwen opened the offered bundle to reveal a leather jerkin, greaves and braces, as well as new leggings and a long tunic. The smooth leather of the jerkin was embossed with silver in the shape of the mallorn trees, and the greaves and braces had silver mallorn leaves embossed on them.

"Wow," said Galadwen, as her fingers gently traced the lines of the mallorn trees that glowed in the dawn light. "It is too beautiful to wear."

"Nonsense my child," said Nestor. "It is as beautiful as you deserve. And this way, you will always have the mallorn trees with you, protecting you."

"I will?" Galadwen asked.

"Yes, child. That is not silver but the sap of Laerorneth and Valief Tar-Vardarianna infused into the armour."

"I did not know such things were possible," Galadwen said in awe.

"They are possible," Nestor confirmed. "But not common. There are few the trees of Lothlorien will give such a gift to."

"I am honoured," Galadwen said, bending to send her thanks to Laerorneth.

Nestor smiled at her. "Now will you please put it on so I may see you in it," she asked.

Grinning at Nestor's impatience, Galadwen quickly got dressed. The silver green thick soft tunic felt more comfortable than anything she'd worn before. It was just below knee length to give extra protection, but the split at the front and back allowed full movement. The leather armour felt strange, but not uncomfortable. She could almost feel the strength of the trees in the leather. It felt like home.

Smiling, Galadwen looked up at Nestor. "It is perfect. Thank you, Mam," she said, giving her a tight embrace.

"You are more than welcome my child," Nestor said. "But you are not quite ready." She picked up Galadwen's cloak and did it up over her shoulders, then fastened her quiver, sword and bow on the outside, through the small holes in the cloak.

"There," Nestor said, taking a step back to look her over. "You look like a true traveller now."

Galadwen smiled. She may look like one, but she did not feel like one.

Hurrying down her tree to meet Toron, Galadwen was pleased to find that the armour did not hinder any movements. In fact, the leather jerkin helped her quiver sit more firmly as she ran.

Galadwen arrived at the bench under the Great Tree a few minutes after dawn had broken. Toron was casually leaning against the trunk. Dressed in leather armour, he watched her approach, a small smile playing in the corner of his mouth.

"I am pleased to see you so well equipped for our small journey," he said.

"It was a gift from Nestor," she replied.

"It suits you," he said, smiling.

Galadwen smiled in pleasure.

"Here," Toron said, throwing her a satchel. Galadwen caught it and put it over her shoulder like Toron had done with his. "With the exception of your weapons, in there is everything you will need. Now let us start while the morning is young." With that, he led them off at a quick but steady pace.

In the bright morning light, Galadwen smiled at the guards on the city gate as they nodded to her and Toron. Passing through the gate, it was the first time she had been outside the city borders since the orc attack. Unconsciously, she rubbed at the scar on her left shoulder. The forest that had felt as safe as home to her, now almost felt like a stranger.

"We will follow the east road along the river, then turn north at the first willow. There is a patrol path there that we can follow," Toron said.

They walked in silence. Toron moved with silent, graceful strides. Galadwen tried to do the same. The dark waters of the river silently crept along beside them, the birds fluttered in the forest around them, the wind moved the leaves in the canopy far above them, and Galadwen started to relax. She knew the forest was the same as it always had been, but to her, it all felt different. It seemed so much more awake and alive, but she knew it was only her who was more alive.

"I heard," Toron said, breaking their companionable silence, "that your archery has miraculously improved to that of a master, just like your swordsmanship."

"You heard?" Galadwen asked. "I did not realise there was anyone watching."

"I do not know if there was, but I could hear you training last night. As I stood at watch, when the rest of Caras Galadhon was quiet, I could hear an archer with your rhythm, hitting target after target, at speeds of a master."

"Yes," she replied. "I applied the same knowledge I learnt when fighting you two days ago. I am learning better control. I still draw on my life force, but with only a couple of short rests, I was able to train all day and half of the night without tiring."

"Good," Toron replied. "It may be that archery comes to you more naturally than swordsmanship."

"Yes," agreed Galadwen. She had felt that archery was easier than the sword, but had assumed that was just because it was.

"It is quite miraculous the impact your gift has had on your ability to fight. I have never heard of another elf becoming as skilled as you in such a short time. I'm sure there would be many who are envious of such a gift."

"I am pleased that this gift that made my life so trying has finally given me something in return," Galadwen said. "But I would still trade it all to have not seen the things that I have seen or know the things that I do. To have had a normal childhood."

"That is the wish of many," he said. "To be normal. To fit in and feel as if you belong. To just live a normal life. But you, dear Galadwen, are not normal. Even without your gift or lineage, you are so much more than normal. You are an extraordinary person. To selflessly care about this world and all who live within it as you do. In all my years, I have met only a few I could say the same of."

Galadwen bowed her head in embarrassment at his generous words. She had no idea how to respond to such kindness.

Toron put a hand on her arm, stopping their walk. "Galadwen," he said, turning to face her. "I must apologise." She looked up in surprise. "I did not have the faith in you that you deserve. I did not believe that you will succeed."

"Then why offer to train me?" she asked.

"Because my conscience would not allow me to do nothing. Even thinking it was a lost cause, I still had to help."

"Then you owe me no apology," Galadwen replied.

"But I do," he said. "Because I want you to know that now I have faith. I believe in you. I believe that you will succeed in this quest you have set for yourself. I believe you will stop the void that you have talked about. I believe that you will return here to Lothlorien. I believe you will be welcomed as a hero with open arms by all. And I believe that we will continue this friendship, and when my tenure is over, we will travel Middle Earth together."

Galadwen had never felt the extreme mix of sadness and joy that she now felt. To have someone believe in her filled her heart with joy, but at the same time, her heart was breaking at the pain she was going to cause him. She did not have the courage to tell him that she would not return, even if the quest was successful. Her mother was never wrong.

"Thank you Toron," she said gripping his shoulder affectionately. "Your faith in me means more than I could have imagined."

"And your friendship means more to me than I imagined," he replied. "So please," he said, drawing a beautiful sheathed knife from his satchel, "accept this knife as a token of our friendship."

Galadwen took the offered knife, inspecting it in her hands. It was a thing of exceptional beauty. The black sheath was etched with elegant silver swirls. Looking closely, she saw the swirls were actually ancient words of blessing. The hilt was decorated with green emeralds, set in silver. And the blade's graceful curved steel was of ancient elven make.

"A Valinor blade," Galadwen said in awe. "Where did you come by such a rare blade?"

"It was a gift," he said smiling fondly at it. "But now it is yours."

"I cannot accept a gift as precious as this," Galadwen said, trying to give the blade back to him. "It should be a family heirloom, passed down to your children."

"I have not children," he replied. "Besides, the emerald blade should belong to the elf with the emerald eyes. But if you must, you can give it back when you return."

"But Toron," Galadwen said, feeling her emotions start to overwhelm her. "What if I do not return? I cannot accept this."

"You will and you must," he replied softly, closing her fingers around the blade.

Galadwen could hear his heart racing as he continued to hold her hands. Surprisingly her heart was doing the same. Neither moved.

"Thank you Toron," she eventually said in a voice that nearly shook with emotion. With the moment broken, Toron released her hands and stepped back.

"Let us continue, we have much to do today," he said, setting off along the path once again.

Galadwen fastened the knife to her back, on the belt that held her jerkin down over her hips. Then she hurried after Toron.

They continued following the river until they reach a large weeping willow standing guard over the track. It's long arms reached into the river, swirling in a dance with the current. They followed the track through the willow's protective branches to the enclosed clearing beneath. As Galadwen passed through the branches, she could feel the tree. It was awake and aware of them. Smiling, she ran her fingers through the branches, sending it a greeting.

"Sealh," she said smiling. The tree's name had formed in her mind like a whisper on the wind as she greeted it. The tree was very old for its species, but she could sense a fun, mischievous streak that reminded her much of Nestor.

"Come," said Toron, as he led her into the protective enclosure under the tree. Behind the old trunk that was rough and cracking with age, was a small opening in the rocky bank. Galadwen followed Toron through the narrow gap into a dark tunnel beyond. After only a dozen yards, it opened up to a rocky cave, dimly lit by thousands and thousands of tiny green lights lining the ceiling.

"What is this place?" Galadwen said in amazement.

"It is given many names," Toron replied. "Sealh's Grotto, Emerald Cave, and The Cave of Tiny Souls are but a few of the names."

"It is magic," she said in awe.

"That it is," he replied. "Although, not in the way you think. Those lights are not from elven magic, but from tiny insects who live in here."

"It feels like there are more lights in here than stars in the sky."

"Yes, it is quite a sight," he said. "Come let us take a seat and enjoy it for a moment." Toron led her over to a bench carved into the stone wall. As they sat, all was silent except for the trickle of water as it gently tumbled down the opposite wall into a dark pool, giving a shaky reflection of the green stars above.

As time passed, Galadwen still struggled to believe the sight before her eyes. "Where did such insects come from?" Galadwen asked, her voice echoing in the silence.

"No one knows," Toron replied. "As far as I can work out, they were here before us."

"Before elves?" Galadwen asked in disbelief.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I was shown this cave some years after the war. They fascinated me, and after spending a long time studying them, a traveller told me of another cave he had seen years before with the same green lights in the Greenwood. Now Mirkwood. I had to find the cave he spoke of, so I left Lothlorien in search of it. On my way there, I checked every cave I came across and was surprised to find that some of them had these green lights. Although, not nearly as many as here. When I found the cave in the Greenwood, I wondered where these insects had come from. So I kept looking for caves in the hopes of finding answers. I travelled Middle Earth exploring the caves and found that wherever there was pure air and clean water, these little creatures lived. Even in the deepest reaches of the Lonely Mountains where even dwarves would not go. In the end, the only conclusion I had left was that these insects were here before humans, before dwarves, and even before elves."

"There was magic here before elves," Galadwen said.

"Yes, there is magic in all life of Middle Earth, and it will live on long after elves have left this land. It is the magic of creation, the magic of the Valar."

Galadwen sat in silence, thinking about what he had said. "Why did you show this to me?" she asked.

"I want you to know that I understand why you are doing this quest, even if I still do not agree with you going alone. I have seen the magic of this world. The things you have seen in only your dreams, I have lived them. I know there is much darkness out there. There has been, from when the Valar first shaped these lands. I have seen from the haunted look in your eyes that you have seen too much darkness. You have seen great evils and terrible deeds that spread fear and destruction across the land. But I still believe Middle Earth is worth saving and I know you will save it. So if you ever find yourself despairing for this land, remember there is always good and beautiful things to be found, even in the darkest of places."

Galadwen smiled into the darkness as Toron took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Now come, the day is getting late and we have far to travel," he said, standing.

With a final lingering look at the marvellous grotto, Galadwen followed him out. It amazed her that she had lived in Lothlorien for nearly a century and there was so much she had not seen. Nestor had been right, she had not really been living her life. But now she would. Even if that meant her life ended prematurely, it would be a fuller life than what she would have lived if she stayed here doing nothing but dreaming of the future.

Blinking in the bright light as she stepped out into the dappled light under the willow, Galadwen followed Toron around the tree's trunk to a small pile of staves stacked against the tree.

"The Border Guard have these here to use in the Soft Lands. I'm sure they won't mind if we borrow a couple," Toron said as he selected two from the pile. Galadwen accepted the offered staff. It was about shoulder height, light and straight. The silver wood told her it was mallorn made.

"Why do we need these?" she asked.

"You will see," he said, looking to the sun. "The day is late. We will need to hurry if we are to get to camp before dark. Come," he said, turning and disappearing through the branches of the willow. Galadwen followed him through the branches, feeling Sealh's presence as she passed. At a fork in the path, Galadwen followed Toron as he took the left path. They ran up the steep track, bridged a small rise, then ran back down the other side. They continued like this, up then down, up then down, in a north-east direction. Galadwen realised she was smiling as she ran. It was nice to stretch out and feel the wind on her face and just run like she used to before the orc attack.

She had seen much of the forest in her hunt for hiding spots for her dreaming, but she had never ventured this far out. The trees were getting significantly smaller, and the mallorn trees were almost outnumbered by a multitude of other varieties. Galadwen recognised many of them from the books Toron had her read. To amuse her mind, she made a game of naming the trees to herself as she passed each one. There was a beech, an oak, and an elm. Then down the bottom of the slope was a hawthorn, and up the next bank, a maple and another oak.

As they reached the bottom of yet another slope, Galadwen sighed in relief when she saw there was not another hill to run up. Instead, the track wound away through of grove of Black Ash trees. Running down the track, Galadwen saw there were no mallorn trees at all here. It felt almost lonely to not be surrounded by the familiar majestic trees that she had been around her whole life.

When the ground started getting soft underfoot Toron slowed to a walk.

"We are nearing the Soft Lands," Toron said. "A large area of the northwest corner of Lothlorien forest, near the Anduin, that is waterlogged. The Mallorn trees do not grow here, for it is too wet for them. It is beautiful in its own right, but for the untrained, it can be unpleasant and even dangerous. It is the closest to camping outside of Lothlorien without having to leave the safety of our borders."

"But the days are numbered before I will have to leave the safety of our borders anyway."

"Yes," Toron agreed. "And those first few days will be the most dangerous if the orcs are hunting you. Fortunately, I have heard that our army is preparing for a battle with the orcs northeast of our lands. Lady Galadriel has asked that I advise you that the army will be leaving three days hence. I believe she intends the army to be your unofficial escort. "

"Then I will be ready," Galadwen said more firmly than she felt. Since she had made her decision, Galadwen knew her time in Lothlorien was limited. But that time had gone faster than she had expected. She did not know if she was ready to say goodbye to her home, to her beloved Laerorneth, the mighty King of All Trees, to Toron, and her mother. But most of all, she was not ready to say goodbye to Nestor. Saying goodbye scared her more than the dangers she would face.

Toron put a hand on her shoulder. "You are ready Galadwen. I have faith in you."

Galadwen smiled at him. "Thank you, Toron. It is because of you. I do not know how I can thank you for all you have done for me."

"Do your bit to save this world then return to me," he replied. "That is all the thanks I need."

"I will do my best," she said, as guilt filled her heart. But she did not have the strength to tell him that she would not return. She could see now that Nestor had been right. He cared for her deeply. So much so that Galadwen feared what he might do if he knew she would not return. Would he try to stop her from going? Or perhaps he might even abandon his sworn fidelity to Lady Galadriel and follow her.

"That is all anyone can ask," he said. Galadwen gave him a reassured smile and they continued walking.

The ground got steadily softer under foot until Galadwen felt as if the plant litter under her feet was floating.

"Are we walking on water?" she asked Toron.

"In a sense, yes," he replied. "Years of leaf litter, twigs and branches have built up a floating platform that we are walking on. The waterlogged ground underneath is less of a water and more of a dark thick mud that sucks you down into a tangle of roots and branches. A misstep is unpleasant at the least and possibly deadly. Careless elves have died in the Soft Lands. The platform is thick here, but there will be thinner areas so follow my steps carefully."

Galadwen followed Toron, placing her feet where his had left. Holes in the ground started to appear, showing the thick black mud beneath. Soon they were no longer stepping around the holes but were stepping from floating island to floating island. As the floating islands got smaller, they also got less stable. With each step, the sticks under her feet wobbled with her weight. Although Toron was larger and heavier, he continued with his usual ease and grace, lightly stepping, hopping or leaping from island to island. With less grace than even the clumsiest of elves, Galadwen had to use her staff to keep her balance. With each wobbling step, she stared down at the black mud that threatened to remind Toron that she was an incompetent half-breed. Fortunately, the floating islands soon increased in size and Galadwen could return to a steady walk.

The forest was starting to darken with the oncoming dusk when Toron stopped. In front of them was a strip of mud nearly half a dozen yards wide. It stretched to their left and right as far as Galadwen could see. On the far side was solid ground rising up above the mud.

"This is our stop for the night," Toron said. "One of only a few solid islands in the Soft Lands. This one is completely surrounded by a moat of mud."

"How do we get across?" Galadwen asked, staring up at the trees, wondering if they could swing across.

In answer to her question, Toron backed up a few steps. Then to her surprise, he ran towards the mud moat with his staff extended in front of him. She thought he was going to run right into the mud, then at the very last step, he planted the end of the staff in a tree stump and catapulted himself over it. She watched as Toron soared over the mud, his cloak flying out behind him. He landed gracefully on the far side, with a couple of quick steps to halt his momentum, before turning to look back at Galadwen.

Terrified that she would embarrass herself, Galadwen took some extra steps back. Then with a deep breath to steady her nerves, she ran at full speed for the mud. Planting her staff, Galadwen catapulted herself into the air. The wind whipped at her clothes as she sailed up and up, before starting to fall back down. The mud and the island were fast getting nearer. It was close, but she could see her trajectory would land her on the island. Smiling, Galadwen landed victoriously. But her momentum kept her moving forward. Unable to keep her feet under her, she dropped her staff and turned the momentum into a roll, coming to a stand beside Toron.

He grinned at her. "Nicely done," he said, picking a leaf out of her hair. Galadwen couldn't help herself grinning back. That had been exhilarating.

"The camp is just up here," he said, leading her up the small rise.

At the top of the rise was a clearing with a fire pit in the centre.

"This is where we will camp for the night," Toron said. "First I will show you how to light a fire that will give off limited smoke and light."

Having never lit a fire before, Galadwen happily shadowed Toron as he went through the steps for her. He made it look easy, but when it was her turn, she found it was anything but in the damp Soft Lands. In the end, Galadwen finally got a spark from her flint to ignite the tinder long enough to really get the fire going.

"Good," said Toron, as Galadwen sat back on her heels, grinning at the fire. "Now perhaps you remember from our first lesson that I speak the five main languages but have only gone through four with you. Tonight I will teach you the basics of the fifth. It is not a language that can be spoken in Caras Galahon, for the sound of the Black Speech is less than pleasant on elvish ears."

As darkness descended and they ate supper, Galadwen struggled to twist her tongue into odd shapes to produce the harsh growls and grunts of Black Speech. The night was nearly halfway gone by the time Toron was finally satisfied that she had sufficient understanding.

"That will do," he said. "Rest for what remains of the night, I will keep watch."

By the light of the dying embers, Galadwen wrapped her cloak around her, and leaning against a Black Ash, she made herself comfortable. She could feel the life of the tree behind her, but it wasn't familiar and welcoming like the mallorn trees. She still sent it thanks for its shelter and support. It would have been rude not to.

"Where did you learn Black Speech?" Galadwen asked.

"From one of the Istari on my travels," he replied.

"What are they like? The wizards?"

"I cannot speak for them all, as I have only met three of the Istari. Sauramon the White, the wise and proud leader of their order, Gandalf the Grey, and Radagast the Brown. Sauramon, Gandalf and Radagast are as much the same as they are different. They walk Middle Earth as old men but do not be fooled by their looks. From what I have seen and heard, they are strong, intelligent, and cunning. But that is where their similarities end. Radagast cares for little else than the plants and animals. He loves and protects them as if they were his own children. I met him in Mirkwood during my search for the caves. A fascinating man. He had a lot of knowledge to share if only his mind would stay focused long enough to voice it. He would flutter from topic to topic like a sparrow hopping from one branch to the next, never staying still longer than a breath."

"Whereas Sauramon would be better compared to a mountain. Proud and strong, but unforgiving and dangerous to those who try to cross him. Now Gandalf, I would say is more like the ocean. Soft and patient, he sets people on the correct course, like gentle waves moulding rock to suit its purpose. But just like Sauramon, if you cross Gandalf the wrong way, he can be as great and frightening as the fiercest of storms to a lowly sailor."

"It sounds as if you speak from experience," Galadwen observed.

"I do," Toron admitted, looking at the hands in his lap as an expectant silence stretched between them. "But please forgive me," he eventually continued. "It is a story I am not yet willing to retell. The emotions are still too close to my heart. But I will tell you this. He is the reason I finally gave up my wandering ways and swore my fidelity to Lady Galadriel."

"I am sorry," Galadwen replied.

"Do not be," Toron said with a kind smile. "It was a hard lesson, but it was one that I had to learn. Now if you will not rest, perhaps you would like to learn the basics of fighting with a staff?"

In answer, Galadwen bounced to her feet, grinning. The rest of the night was filled with the clack, clack, clack of staff hitting staff as Toron took her through some basic drills.

As the sky lightened, heralding the new dawn, they stopped for another meal and rested. Galadwen leaned against the same tree as before, but this time it seemed more welcoming. It recognised her from before and she could feel its acceptance. She could feel her life force merging with it, feeling its strength flow through her. It felt different to the mallorn trees. Younger and more impressionable, as if it's conscious thought was only just beginning. Galadwen realised that it was only now waking up. She sent a thought of welcome to the tree, wishing it a long beautiful life full of long summers and short winters.

"What are you doing?" Toron asked, shocking Galadwen out of her conversation with the tree.

"Just talking to the tree," she replied, feeling a little guilty.

"I can see that," he said, indicating the branches above her. They were moving of their own accord, almost like a stretching child waking from sleep. "I think both myself and the tree would be honoured if you would grace us with a song?" he asked.

Smiling at his invitation, Galadwen nestled back into the tree and began to sing. Her mind was too full of confusing thoughts and mixed emotions to sing about them, especially when words of the Black Speech kept popping in. So she chose a song that Nestor would often sing for her. Sung in Quenya, it told the tale of the awakening of the heavens by Varda. Although her voice was not as pure as Nestors to do it true justice, she sang with all the awe and reverence that the song always filled her with. As she sung, Galadwen could feel the tree stretching and moving beneath her, and by the rustling sounds around them, she could hear the other trees on the island were also moving to her song.

As the last long chord faded from her lips, the glade fell into a hushed silence. Toron had a strange look on his face, and although a gentle breeze drifted through the clearing, not a single leaf stirred. Then as the rising sun filled the clearing with a golden light, the trees around them shivered when the light touched them.

"Like a dog shaking water from its coat, I do believe these trees are shaking the sleep from their limbs," Toron said in awe. "By the power of Elbereth, you have awoken them."

"But they are trees of Lothlorien, were they not already awake?" she asked.

"They were like sleepwalking children, who would only move in their sleep or under our guidance. But now," he replied, looking around the glade in awe. "I can almost hear them thinking, and talking. They have their own voices, like the mallorn trees of Caras Galahon. To have such a gift to give conscious thought, you are surely blessed by the Valar."

Galadwen looked away in embarrassment. She didn't feel blessed. In fact, she believed her tree singing skill was only from years of practice. When she had no other friends, the trees had kept her company. But she did not try to explain such a thing to Toron, for she did not want his pity.

"Come, blessed Galadwen, we must return to Caras Galahon by dusk, and I have much to teach you on the way," Toron said as he stood. "And your first lesson is to see the past. Not with any gift, but with your own eyes. Elves have a keener sight than any other peoples of Middle Earth, but there is little use of it if you do not understand what it is you see. So let me teach you."

Galadwen followed Toron around their campsite as he pointed out where they had been, then showed her other markings not made by them. He showed her how to tell the age of the markings, and to read clues about the person who made them.

"These prints here," Toron said indicating one set on the edge of the clearing. "Two days old, are the prints of Haldir, Captain of the Marchwardens."

"How can you tell such a thing?" Galadwen asked, amazed he could see so much in a couple of vague footprints in the dirt.

"The size of the print and the type of shoe. The light rain of three days ago has not touched these prints," Toron replied.

"I fear I see little more than two footprints in the dirt," Galadwen replied, feeling upset at her inability to see as much as he did.

Toron was smiling at her. "Do not despair, for although I see these things, they are not enough to tell me it was Haldir."

"Then how do you know?" Galadwen asked.

"I know because I asked him to stand here," Toron said with a grin.

"Oh," she sighed with relief. Galadwen returned Toron's grin. She had never been included in such a thing as a joke before.

"Now I asked Haldir to take a not so direct route back to Caras Galahon," Toron said. "So your task for the morning is to follow his tracks as best you can."

Galadwen swallowed nervously.

"Do not worry," Toron advised her, "Haldir took all the care of a dwarf. He will be easy to see, although his tracks will be unpredictable."

With a determined nod, Galadwen stood and carefully inspected the surrounding area. Haldir had indeed left a clear trail out of the clearing. She followed it slowly, careful to not disturb the trail as she passed in case she had to backtrack.

Toron had been right about Haldir taking an indirect route. Galadwen felt as if she had walked nearly every foot of the island as she followed Haldir's trail this way and that, with Toron quietly following behind. When the trail finally told Galadwen that Haldir had lept off the island over the moat, she found the place he crossed was exceptionally wide.

Concerned that she wouldn't be able to make the jump, Galadwen used her gift of foresight to determine how much effort she would need to leap the moat. In the mere moment that her eyes were closed, she watched herself fall into the black mud as the most probable outcome. Backing up as far as the slope of the island allowed, she checked again, to see herself soaring across the moat. Judging the effort required, Galadwen took off at a run. Leaping, she cleared the moat, just as she'd seen. But then landing on the floating ground of the Soft Lands, her right foot broke through the bracken as the force of her landing pushed the island down. Unable to free her trapped foot in time, Galadwen watched in horror as the black water washed over the island, engulfing her legs. It receded just as quickly as the island's buoyancy pushed her back up, leaving her legs covered in a black mud. Toron lightly landed a few paces to her left, quickly leaping again to avoid the black water that came rolling over the island. When it had receded again, he walked over to Galadwen with a grin.

"Would you like a hand?" he said. "Or perhaps a foot?"

Ignoring his humour, Galadwen berated herself. "I should have known. I should have looked further into the future," she said while pulling at her trapped foot.

"I am glad that you didn't," Toron replied as he bent to snap the branches holding her in place. "For every lesson you learn here, is one less you have to learn out there, where a mistake like this could be deadly."

With her foot finally free and his hands covered in the black mud, he stood and smiled at her. "Now we are both filthy," she replied.

"And what a muddy pair we make," he said with another one of those smiles. "So if you wouldn't mind, could you get my spare tunic from out of my satchel?"

After Toron had cleaned his arms with his spare tunic, and given it to Galadwen to clean her legs, she returned to her tracking. They had disturbed the area around where Haldir had crossed, so it took some time for Galadwen to find his trail again. But the longer she tracked him, the easier it became. She became familiar with his markers and was soon following his trail at a jog.

"Galadwen," Toron said as he followed three paces behind her. "It is past midday and you are making excellent time, so let us rest."

Galadwen slowed her jog to a walk, then at the next mallorn tree, stopped. She watched as Toron took off his weapons and sat with his back against the tree. She did likewise, sitting beside him against the tree.

"I fear I have underestimated your ability to track," Toron said as he handed her his water skin. "This does not seem a challenge to you."

Galadwen gratefully drank from the offered skin before handing it back. "I am no stranger to the forest, and know what is natural and what is not. Once you showed me what to look for, it is easy enough to find," she replied as Toron drank from his skin.

"Then after we have rested, I will make it harder for you. We are not far from the river. I want you to track me to the willow. But unlike Haldir, I will not try to leave you a path to follow."

"What if I lose your track?" Galadwen asked as she passed Toron a handful of dried berries.

"Then keep walking south and you will reach the river. Once there, it will be easy enough to follow it upstream until you reach the willow."

They sat in silence, savouring the taste of the summer berries. Galadwen silently talked to the tree as she watched Toron out the corner of her eye. He was lost in thought, with a sad set to his face. "What troubles you Toron?" Galadwen finally asked.

He looked at her a long moment before replying. "Although our Lady advised me against speaking of it, I will tell you," he finally said. "After you finished practising with the bow last night, I left my post and went to Galadriel. I had to know why she would not let me accompany you. Her answer was to invite me to look in her mirror. I saw your halfling. I saw him as he is, and as he will be. Wrinkled with age, boarding a ship to sail west with Nestor at his side. I have seen that you will succeed, and that brings me great joy. But that was not all I saw. There was a man, a king of old returned, destined to unite the peoples of Middle Earth against the coming darkness. I know his line. I knew his ancestors. There was a fortress in the mountains, and a great army of orcs swarmed its walls like a tidal wave. So much death was illuminated with each flash of lightning. In this midst of it all, this man hopelessly fought on while elves guarded his back. I saw myself there. I fought on as hopelessly as he, and like so many others, I died. I have seen my own death. And while I struggle with this knowledge, I finally realise the burden you carry. For I know what I have seen is but a glimmer of what you must see every time you sleep." He reached out and took her hand in his. "You ask what troubles me. It is finally understanding your burden, but knowing not how I can help ease it."

"Your faith in me is enough," Galadwen replied with a gentle smile. "And to promise to never call it a gift again."

"I promise," he said, squeezing her hand affectionately. "But how do you do it? How do you keep going, knowing what you know, having seen what you have seen?"

"Faith," she replied simply. "I have faith that things happen for a reason. There is a reason I am who I am and can do what I can. Like this King you saw, I have a destiny. It may not be as great as uniting Middle Earth against the oncoming darkness. Great or small, my destiny is to fight this darkness, however I can. But do not despair Toron, for what you see in that mirror may not come to pass. Not if you use the knowledge you have to change the future. That is what I aim to do."

"Then I will have faith that I was shown my death so I can change it," Toron replied, smiling at her again. "Now before you get me to share all my deepest thoughts, let us continue with your training. Close your eyes, count to one hundred, then track me to the river."


	8. Chapter 8 - Farewells

**Chapter 8 - Farewells**

Sitting at the table in her tree with Toron and Nestor, on her final afternoon in Lothlorien, part of Galadwen wished that dawn would never come.

"Every traveller knows of the delicate balance between comfort and speed," Toron was saying as he helped Galadwen pack the food into her satchel. "To travel in comfort, you cannot travel at any great speed. The more comforts you wish to take with you, the more cumbersome your load will be and the slower you will travel. A sleeping mat, cooking billy, and fresh food are all luxuries you do not have the time to take. To stay out of the reach of danger, you must travel at speed. Resting only when you must and eating no more than half a lambas bread a day. If you follow the Anduin upstream for four days, you will reach the Gladden Fields. Wait on the edge of the Gladden Fields until a guide comes to show you through the fields and across the Gladden River. Remember, do not go through the fields alone. They are like the Soft Lands and without a guide, can be treacherous. Once you cross the Gladden River, you will have another three days walk before you get to the old ford. Cross the Anduin and walk north for another couple of days until you reach the home of the skin-changer. Only approach his lands during the day, lest you anger the beast. He will guide you to the Forest Gate, from which you can follow the Elf-path through Mirkwood to the Elevenking's Halls."

"Yes, Toron," Galadwen said smiling. "I remember from the first half a dozen times we went over it."

"I know, I know," Toron replied as he packed the last lambas bread into her satchel. "I just feel like we are missing something."

"If we were, we would have found it by now."

"Let us go over it one more time," he replied, pulling the maps out again.

"Toron," Galadwen interrupted, "I know those maps off by heart."

"But what if you get lost or forced off the planned route?" he asked.

"I will be fine," she replied. "Have some faith."

Sighing, Toron folded the maps up again.

"Please, let us just enjoy this last day," Galadwen said.

"How very mortal of you," Toron commented.

"Yes," she agreed, "but is that such a bad way to live?"

"Not at all, my child," Nestor said. "I often wish more elves would think like that. Then perhaps some of those stuffy, backstabbing court sycophants would see what is really important in life."

Toron gaped at Nestor in horror.

"Oh don't look at me like that Toron. When you get to my age, you too can say what you really think. Not that anyone listens to me anymore," she said with a sigh. "But enough of that. Galadwen, didn't you have something to give Toron?"

Smiling, Galadwen excused herself from the table and ran up the branch to her sleeping platform. Sitting in the middle of it was her most beautiful creation yet. With the help of Laerorneth, she had sung a rocking chair from her shoots. The intricate pattern of the silvery white shoots on the back of the chair formed an image of two people sitting under a mallorn tree. She could not help but feel a little proud of her efforts over the last couple of days as she picked it up and carried it back down to the living platform. She put it down next to where Toron was sitting.

"This is for you," she said. "Even those who choose not to live in a tree deserve some of their comforts."

Toron stood to inspect the chair. "Galadwen it is beyond beautiful. Even though I have seen your talent with my own eyes, it still amazes me. I do not know how to thank you for such a gift."

"Then perhaps we are even, for you have given me more than I could ever repay. Even a dozen such chairs would not come close, but I fear I did not have the time for more than one."

"One is all I want. Thank you Galadwen," he said, grasping her shoulder with affection. She returned his smile and grasp.

"Now," said Nestor. "It is time for a toast." She took out some cups and filled them with her best sweet wine. Smiling, Galadwen and Toron accepted the offered cups. "I have always been proud of you, child," Nestor began. "But now I am near to bursting with it. The amount of change and growth you have undertaken in the last month is unheard of amongst elves. It has been a pleasure and an honour to watch you grow, and I know what you have learnt will serve you well. I also know that although I am pleased to see you living such a life, I will miss you terribly my dear child." There were tears in her eyes and her voice shook with emotion. "You are the daughter and the family I never had. I love you, my dear Galadwen."

"Oh Mam," Galadwen said, forgetting her drink and throwing her arms around Nestor in a hug. Nestor held her tight for a long moment before letting her go.

Clearing the emotion from her throat, Nestor raised her glass. "To family and friends."

"Family and Friends," Toron and Galadwen repeated.

"As much as I wish I could stay and drink with you all night, my duty calls," Toron said.

"So soon? It is not yet dusk," Galadwen argued.

"No, but I must drop your wonderful chair off first. Do not fear Galadwen, I will be there to see you off at dawn." He took her hand in his and bowed low over it. His breath caressed her fingers as his lips softly touched them. "Rest, I will see you at dawn," he said, before quickly turning, collecting the chair and disappearing down the stairs.

Galadwen did not move as she listened to him descend the full length of the stairs.

"Come, child, eat something, then you must rest," Nestor said.

With a sad sigh, Galadwen returned to her seat at the table.

"Come now, do not be sad on your last night here," Nestor said as she placed a pile of food in front of Galadwen. "How about I sing you a tale?"

With a small smile, Galadwen nodded. And so Nestor began her song. It was the tale of Beren and Lúthien. According to Nestor, this tale was celebrated in Rivendell, but in Lothlorien, it was not often heard. Nestor had said that was because many of the elves of Lothlorien believed the mixing of mortal and immortal blood to be undesirable and impure.

Although a beautiful song, it was not a cheerful choice. At the death of Beren, Galadwen could feel tears in her eyes, as much for her own probable death as for Beren's. The song finished with Beren and Luthien renewing their love in their second life. It was a beautiful end to a hard life. As the final notes faded, Galadwen thought of the golden-haired elf and wondered if such a gift could be granted to them.

"Come, my child, you must rest now," Nestor said. "It will be days before you can do so again in safety."

"Yes Mam," Galadwen agreed, taking her leave and walking up to her sleeping platform.

Reclined in the comfortable nook of her sleeping platform, Galadwen sent a final thanks to Laeroneth before closing her eyes and opening them in the future.

Her first task was to check on the halfling. The company was currently at the home of the skin-changer. She followed their possible futures and saw that their most likely course was still to be held captive by the Elvenking. It was here that she hoped to meet up with them and possibly change their futures. To do that, she still had many challenges to face. Looking into her own future, there was still a large chance she and many other elves would be killed in the upcoming battle. Some of the orcs would slip through the army's trap and track her down. With so many people involved, the most likely events were too difficult to determine, but what she did see was that if she could make it to the Gladden Fields, she would survive. The rest of the night was spent studying the many possibilities of the upcoming battle.

With watching all the death and fighting, Galadwen was glad to wake before dawn. It had been unpleasant but productive. She would need to talk to the commander leading the battle today.

As she dressed, Galadwen smiled as she heard the familiar sound of Nestor singing to the Laeroneth on the living platform. It gave her comfort as she shouldered her weapons and said goodbye to her childhood sleep quarters.

Nestor was reclining in one of the chairs at the table, singing a song that made the chair gently rock back and forth as she ate her morning meal. Opposite her was a plate of food for Galadwen. Taking a seat at the table, Galadwen ate while listening to Nestor's smooth rhythmic voice. She did not have the heart to join in and sing to Laeroneth one last time.

The sky was starting to lighten as Nestor's song was finally finished. "It is time, my child."

Nodding, Galadwen stood and accepted the offered satchel, now heavy with lambas loaves and water. Nestor took her arm, and together they descended Laeroneth's stairs. Galadwen ran her free hand over the smooth trunk as they descended, feeling Laeorneth's life beneath her hand. The tree was wishing her a safe journey.

On the short walk to the north gate, the forest, that was usually quiet at this time of the morning, was busy with elves bustling about. Most were heading in the same direction as them, towards the north gate. A large crowd was milling around the gate when they arrived. Most of them were soldiers and their families.

"I must speak with the commander," Galadwen said. Nestor nodded and led her through the crowd. The commander was the same elf she had seen speaking to the court, and now standing beside the gate, he was surrounded by messengers and lieutenants. Unsure of her priority, Galadwen joined the people waiting for a moment of his time. He was speaking to the lieutenants when he saw her.

"Good day Galadwen," he said once the lieutenants were dismissed. "I am Captain Erthor. I have been told that you will be travelling with the army until we engage the orcs. While you do so, you will do as commanded by my lieutenants and myself."

Galadwen nodded, "Of course."

"Good. You will travel with the healers until we leave the forest. We will talk more once the army is on the road," he said with a dismissive nod.

"I am not sure if Our Lady told you of my . . ."

"Yes," Captain Erthor said interrupting her. "I have been told. We will talk later." He waved one of the messengers forward. "Romon here will take you to Maerbes, the Head Healer." With that, the Captain turned away and addressed another messenger.

"If you please," the messenger said. "This way."

Galadwen and Nestor followed the messenger through the bustling crowd. As they walked, a horn blew a long note and the urgency of the crowd increased dramatically.

"An order to start forming up," Nestor said to Galadwen's questioning glance. Galadwen started searching the crowd. "He will be here my child," Nestor said as the messenger stopped in front of an orderly group, identified as healers by their matching green robes. There were ten of them, lined up in pairs, each with a bulging satchel over their shoulder and a staff in their right hand. The messenger approached the healer at the head of the column who had neither staff nor satchel.

"Maerbes," Romon said. "Captain Erthor requests that you allow Galadwen to walk with your unit."

Maerbes looked towards Galadwen and Nestor before nodding to the messenger, who bowed before slipping into the crowd. Maerbes strode over, offering a smile to Nestor. "Greetings Nestor. Have you come to inspect my healers?"

"You know I could not find a fault in your charges even if I wished to," Nestor replied.

"Indeed," Maerbes replied with a proud smile.

"Galadwen, this is Maerbes, an excellent healer and an outstanding leader," Nestor said. "Maerbes, this is my Galadwen, a brave and intelligent woman who I leave in your care."

"As long as she is with my unit, I will treat her as one of my healers," Maerbes replied.

Nestor gave a pleased smile. Maerbes returned to her unit as Nestor turned to Galadwen.

"It is time, my child," she said. Galadwen could feel tears coming to her eyes. She did not want this to be a goodbye. "Our Lady wished for me to tell you that she would be here to see you off if she could. She gave me this to give to you." Nestor pulled out a small pouch from her robes. "Only open it when your need is great, for the light within can only be used to heal a mortal wound once. And here, take this pin as a gift from Celeborn," Nestor said, attaching a mallorn leaf broach to her cloak. "Know that the blessings of Lothlorien go with you."

"Thank you Mam," Galadwen said, giving her an embrace.

"You will succeed. We will see each other again." Nestor said as they broke apart. Blinking back her tears, Galadwen turned and joined the column of healers.

The bustling crowd of moments before was now a precise column of nearly a couple thousand soldiers. The healers' unit was at the rear of the column. On either side of the road, their friends and family lined up to wave them off, as an expectant hush fell on the crowd. Then two short blasts of the horn sounded and the front of the column started to move out. As the soldiers started their uniformed march, the crowd started to sing them farewell. Galadwen looked around for Nestor. She was there in the crowd, with a big smile and tears freely running down her face. And beside her was Toron. In his Royal Guard uniform, he smiled and with hand on chest, he bowed to her. Nestor did the same. And so too did many others as she passed them. It was a hero's farewell.

She did not consider herself a hero, but perhaps it was just a mark of respect towards her journey, or maybe like Callas, they believed she was being unfairly kicked out. Either way, it made Galadwen smile to see elves she had never met showing her solidarity. She was not alone.

The column slowly snaked out of the city along the north road. As the healers' unit passed the city gates, Galadwen looked back a final time towards Caras Galadhon. Through the arch of the gate, she picked out the two figures of Nestor and Toron. After a final wave goodbye, Galadwen set her eyes and heart on the quest.

They had not been marching long before Captain Erthor joined her at the back of the column with a squad of eleven soldiers.

"Galadwen, this is Lieutenant Amathel," the Captain said, indicating the lithe leader of the squad. Galadwen recognised her face from her dreaming, as one of the soldiers she had seen die in a few of the future possibilities. "The Lieutenant has been charged with your protection until the orc army has been dealt with. We have been briefed on your gift, and advised you may have some insight on how to ensure this campaign is successful."

"Yes," Galadwen agreed. "I have seen that the only way to successfully trap the orcs is to use me as bait. I will need to be in more danger than I'm sure yourself and Lieutenant Amathel will be comfortable with."

"I was informed that the orcs may be after you so our plan was to use you as bait. At the forest border, we will split the army. A third will be your honour guard, travelling north with you. The rest of the army will wait for the orcs to follow you before we circle around them and cut them off from a retreat into the mountains. From there the trap will be sprung and you and Lieutenant Amathel's squad will travel east to the Anduin. Once the battle is won, I will send a scout to call them back and you can continue on your journey north, free from the dangers of any orcs."

"Thank you Captain, but a third of the army is still too many for the orcs to risk attacking. It will need to be less," Galadwen said.

"It is too much risk, not just for your life, but for those of my soldiers if we have less," Captain Erthor replied.

"Then the trap will not work," Galadwen said with certainty. The Captain gave her a stony look.

"How about a compromise," Lieutenant Amathel said. "A third of the army can march with Galadwen, but she will travel slower than the army. With only my squad to guard her, they orcs will see an easy target that can be finished off before the small army can return to defend us. When the orcs attach, we run for the small army, who will be waiting in the next valley. Once in the valley, we can run east and the small army can engage the orcs, with the larger army boxing them in."

"That will put you and your squad in great danger," the Captain said. "What if you cannot outpace the orcs?" he asked, looking towards Galadwen. It was clear he did not believe she could outrun them and would end up getting the squad killed.

"I accept the risks for myself, but I will not command my squad to go. Even so, I can tell you now that every one of them will volunteer," the Lieutenant replied.

"Very well," the Captain agreed. "Galadwen, do you have anything to add?"

"That plan will work," she replied. "But I cannot be certain that all the orcs will be caught in your trap. Some may slip through and pursue us."

"My squad will deal with those," said the Lieutenant.

"I have seen that there may be too many," Galadwen said.

"I will charge Lieutenant Dagon's squad with watching your retreat," the Captain said. "If there are orcs following, he will give chase. Two squads will be enough to stop any who slip the net."

"Agreed," said the Lieutenant.

Trying to remember all the possible futures, Galadwen believed this one would work, but she could not be certain. Not unless she slept.

"Will we rest before the battle?" Galadwen asked.

"It is half a day's march to the edge of the forest," the Captain replied. "We will stop there only long enough to eat, drink and check equipment. There is only a certain distance from the borders in which this trap will work. Now if you will excuse me, I must talk to the other Lieutenants." He gave her and Lieutenant Amathel a sharp nod before jogging up the column.

"This is your first time, is it not?" the Lieutenant asked.

"First time?" Galadwen asked in confusion.

"Facing orcs?"

"Yes," Galadwen confirmed.

"This will be my 386 battle or skirmish, and the rest of my squad is just as seasoned," the Lieutenant said. "We will protect you. But I saw you spar with Toron. You know how to handle yourself. You will be fine."

Galadwen nodded. "What is it like?" she asked. "To kill something?"

"When something is trying to kill you or any of your squad, and it is us or them, it does not trouble my conscience," the Lieutenant replied. "During the battle, it is over before you have time to think about it. It is not until later, when you clean the blood from your sword, that you can actually contemplate the deed and see how it sits with your conscience. Killing orcs and other servants of the Dark Lord has never troubled me. But killing the innocent, that is different. I tried hunting once. Taking the life of an innocent animal will haunt me far more than all the kills I have made during battle. I know hunting is a necessity for many, but for me, I could not do it again."

They walked in silence as Galadwen contemplated what she had said.

"Please excuse me Galadwen," the Lieutenant said. "I must discuss tonight with the squad." She gave Galadwen a nod and stepped back into line with her squad.

As the column continued its march north, Galadwen tried not to dwell on the upcoming battle. Instead, she focused on the quiet conversations of healers in front of her and the forest beyond. The mallorn trees were smaller here and outnumbered by the many other types of trees. With every mallorn tree that she saw, Galadwen wondered if that would be the last one, until finally there were no more. With the last mallorn tree behind her, she felt an emptiness in her heart. She would never see another.

As the sun reached its zenith, the column came to a halt. With a few moments of downtime, the column broke up into companionable groups. Standing between the healers and Lieutenant Amathel's squad, Galadwen could almost feel the nervous excitement coming from each of the groups.

Maerbes approached Galadwen, offering her a waterskin.

"Drink," Maerbes instructed. Although she was not thirsty, Galadwen dared not argue with her. "I was Nestor's apprentice for many years and hold her in high regard. Although those in the court say otherwise, I believe she did the right thing in resigning her posts to raise you. To raise others as your own children is a worthy deed. I have been blessed with many children," she said with an affectionate smile towards her healers.

"Nestor would not talk to me of my birth. Would you tell me what you know?" Galadwen asked.

Maerbes looked around uncomfortably. "I am sorry Galadwen, it is not my place to say. I fear I should not have said anything. Please do not trouble yourself with things in the past."

A horn sounded softly from further up the road.

"Galadwen," Lieutenant Amathel called out to her. "It is time to form up."

Maerbes looked infinitely relieved to have their conversation interrupted. "May the sun and stars shine upon your path," she said with a small bow and returned to her healers.

Galadwen soon found herself surrounded by Lieutenant Amathel's squad and marching along the road with a third of the army. Galadwen could feel the eyes of the rest of the army on her, as they silently watched from amongst the trees on the sides of the road.

Just as she was getting back into the rhythm of the march, her feet stumbled at the sight before her. The army had reached the edge of the forest, and before her was a vast expanse of rolling hills as far as her elven eyes could see. To the left, the hills rose up to the snow-capped Misty Mountains in the distance, and to the right, she could see the odd glint of sunlight reflecting off the Great River. The column of five hundred soldiers was winding down the green slope, dotted with wildflowers of all colours.

She found it hard to imagine there could be danger in such a beautiful place.

"Is anything the matter?" one of the soldiers of Lieutenant Amathel's squad asked her.

Galadwen shook her head. "Nay," she said. "I have never stepped outside of the forest before."

With a deep breath, she took a step out into the bright sunlight.

The soldier smiled at her. "I was not as brave as you the first time I left the forest, and I was not on my way to becoming bait for a hoard of orcs."

Galadwen gave him a nervous smile as her eyes keep drifting towards the mountains, imagining hundreds of orcs waiting for darkness to emerge from their holes to hunt her down. She suddenly felt very exposed outside the protection of the forest. But she knew the forest's protection would be limited if she did not go. Setting her jaw, Galadwen took a determined step onto the plains, followed by another, and another. So without a backwards glance at Lothlorien forest, Galadwen continued on the journey she had set herself.

With a command from Lieutenant Amathel, her guard formed up around Galadwen as they made their way down into the valley after the army.

"Galadwen," the Lieutenant said. "You will need to slow your pace or we will catch up with the army we are meant to get separated from."

Galadwen gave her a sheepish nod. In her determination to get on with her quest, she had completely forgotten the trap they were to set.

As the afternoon wore on, they continued north, following the army's trail across valley after valley. Each ridge and valley started to blend together and look the same to Galadwen. Then reaching a ridge between two larger valleys, they could see the setting sun glint off the helmets of the army cresting the far ridge.

"We are getting too far behind," the Lieutenant said. "Time to pick up the pace."

The squad responded by descending the ridge at a loping gait with Galadwen keeping pace in their centre.

The valley floor was in shadow as they continued the pace across it, barely slowing to leap the tumbling brook flowing down its centre. The sunlight had disappeared from the top of the ridge in front of them by the time they crossed the valley to the bottom of it.

"We will save our energy for the battle and walk the climb," the Lieutenant said. "Lagorben," she said, turning to one of the soldiers. "Run to the top of the rise and keep a lookout. Now darkness is falling, the orcs will be looking for our trail. Signal if you see anything."

The soldier saluted and took off up the rise at a run. Galadwen and the rest of the squad continued at a steady walk.

The stars of a dark night, with the assistance of a crescent moon high in the sky, lit their way up the rise. The company took a moment to rest while Lagorben gave a report to the Lieutenant. While they did, Galadwen stood on the edge of the ridge to admire the spectacular sky. The many times she had looked from the top of Laeroneth's canopy, the view had not been as spectacular.

Even with the crescent moon, the stars shone in a magnitude of colours, illuminating the landscape in a wash of silver tones. The snow on the mountain peaks glowed like beacons in the night. In the valley they had just climbed out of, a ribbon of light showed the path of the brook, connecting the Misty Mountains rising out of the west to the Great River to the east. Then down in the valley, Galadwen saw a dark shadow moving at great speed away from them.

"Lieutenant," Galadwen called. "Down there," she said pointing to the fleeing shadow. The lieutenant leapt to her side and stared down into the dark valley.

"An orc scout on a warg," she said. "He must have seen us." She looked down into the valley on the other side of the ridge.

"The army had stopped to wait for us, but now they are on the move again. Lagorben, run to inform the army that we will set the trap in the next valley over. We will rest for another moment before following at a walk. Galuchin," she said to another soldier, "stay on this ridge until you see the orc hoard, then run with all haste to report to me. We will need to time our ascent of the next ridge so the orcs are close but we are still outside of their arrow range by the time we reach the top. It will be a delicate balance of staying outside of their arrow range on the decent but still being close enough to the orcs that they follow us into the trap. Once the trap has been sprung, we will not dally to fight or watch. We run east. Any questions?" she asked. After a moments pause, she continued. "Lagorben?"

The soldier nodded before saluting and disappearing down the slope at a flying run.

"Drink and eat," Lieutenant Amathrel said to Galadwen. "It may be some time before you get another chance."

As she did as instructed, Galadwen's eyes kept nervously scanning the horizon, searching for any signs of the oncoming orcs. Although she had seen this night happening so many times in her dreams, she was finding living it was quite another experience. With the danger so close, the fear was almost paralysing. It spread from her pounding heart through her body, making her want to move. To run and flee.

"Form up," came the Lieutenant's confident voice, inciting a sense of calm over Galadwen. Action was better than the watching and waiting.

The squad, except for the soldier Galuchin, formed up around Galadwen, and Lieutenant Amathrel led them off at a steady walk down the hill towards the valley.

No sooner than they had reached the valley floor than the rear soldiers warned of someone approaching from behind. At a command from the Lieutenant, the squad stopped and formed a defensive ring around Galadwen, alertly scanning their surrounds. With her hand on her sword, Galadwen could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but after a moment she saw the rest of the squad visibly relax as Galuchin came into view.

"The orcs have reached to top of this valley," she said to Lieutenant Amathrel.

"So soon?" she asked.

Galuchin nodded. "At an estimate, I would say they are 1750 strong, including a pack of wargs. Heading down the valley at a great pace."

Lieutenant Amathrel nodded, her face a passive mask. Galadwen did not know what it was like to fight orcs, but the army ahead was going to be outnumbered more than 3 to 1. That did not sound like good odds to her. By the careful lack of expression on the Lieutenant's face, Galadwen suspected that she thought the same.

"Is there anything we can do?" Galadwen asked the Lieutenant.

"Yes," replied Lieutenant Amathrel. "Follow the plan and hope that Captain Erthor's army is just out of sight of the orcs. Now I do not fancy being run down by wargs, so let us make haste for the next ridge."


	9. Chapter 9 - The Trap

**Chapter 9 - The Trap**

As they ran the width of the valley, towards the relative safety of the steep ridge, Galadwen could hear something in the back of her mind. It was not unlike the impressions she got when talking to the trees, but this was a hum like someone was singing a song of urgency and danger. At first, it was so quiet that Galadwen thought her fear was making her imagine things, but as they neared the base of the next ridge, it was loud enough to almost drown out the sound of her own heavy breathing.

A barking growl came from close to the squad's left.

"Wargs!" one of the soldiers called from behind. "Two hundred and fifty yards and closing fast."

"Faster," urged Lieutenant Amathrel, increasing her pace. "They're trying to cut us off from the ridge." The squad followed at a dead run. Galadwen urged her legs to move faster, but she felt her body struggling to keep up with the squad. She had seen this before, in her dreams. If she fell behind, half the squad would die trying in vain to protect her. Knowing she had no other choice, Galadwen drew on her life force.

She tried to only draw in a small amount, but her fear made the floodgates burst open and her life force came pouring in, filling her body with a burst of life and energy. The world slowed as everything came into focus. Her legs used the new found energy to move faster while her mind used her new focus to read their surroundings. The ten soldiers around her moved with grim determination. A glance to the left showed six orcs on wargs closing in on them fast. Too fast.

"We're not going to make it," she called to the Lieutenant.

The Lieutenant watched the progress of the wargs for a moment before shouting off orders. Galadwen watched the squad split around her. Four elves broke off to the right while three ran to the left. The Lieutenant and two other soldiers stayed with Galadwen, as they continued at full pace on their direct path to the ridge.

The orcs responded in kind. A pair veering off to each group of elves. Instead of six wargs running towards them, now there were only two.

"We will attack the wargs," the Lieutenant called to her. "Galadwen, keep running for the ridge."

Galadwen wanted to argue that she could help fight, but the Lieutenant and other soldiers, now with swords in hand, were spreading out away from her and the wargs were upon them.

One of the wargs was coming straight for her. She could focus on little more than the large snout and sharp teeth in a ferocious growl bearing down on her. Sucking in more life force that calmed her nerves, she dodged the beast at the last second. The orc rider took a swing at her as he went past, the vicious tip of his sword barely a hand from her face. Half a dozen yards behind her, one of the soldiers cut the legs out from under the beast. As its legs failed and the warg fell into a roll, the orc rider jumped from it's back.

Remembering the Lieutenant's orders, Galadwen reluctantly continues running towards the ridge, leaving the soldier to deal with the orc.

Barely twenty yards from the base of the ridge, the humming in the back of Galadwen's mind turned into almost a shout. Taking it as a warning, she dove to the left as another warg came charging past. The rider pulled the warg up just short of the small cliff at the base of the ridge and turned to face her. Taking slow steps towards her, the warg growled while the orc rider let out a cackle of amusement. They were not going to let her escape up that way.

As the warg slowly closed the distance, Galadwen drew her sword. She had no idea how to defeat a warg. With nothing more than Toron's training to fall back on, Galadwen hesitantly took a defensive stance. As long as she stayed out of the reach of those fangs, claws, and the orc's sword, she would be fine. With the help of her gift, that should be easy enough.

With a deep breath, Galadwen drew in more of her life force and closing her eyes, opened them in the future. She could faintly hear the battle sounds around her, and the strange humming in the back of her mind. She could smell the warg. A putrid mix of fur, blood, and rot. In the future, she watched it take the step towards her, then a moment later, heard it do it in the present. The orc was laughing hysterically now. She supposed he thought she was closing her eyes in fear of facing him.

With her eyes closed, she watched the warg lunge at her, teeth snapping. Its reflexes were quicker than anything she had seen before. She saw her options, and just as the warg actually lunged for her, she sidestepped the head and drove her sword through the mane and into its neck. Her nose was filled with the beast's foul breath as she watched what the future would bring. She saw the warg rear up, jerking the sword from her hand and slashing her across the face with one of its clawed paws. Wishing to avoid the terrible blow, Galadwen let go of her sword and spun into a backwards dive out of the beast's reach as it started to rear up. She saw that the orc, who was not laughing now, was going to jump from the wounded warg towards her. Galadwen stood a moment longer until he was in the air then leapt out of the orc's range.

Landing, the orc growled and spat at her in some mutation of Black Speech. Its squat frame was barely as high as her chest, but those long arms that nearly touched the ground gave him a reach equal to hers. Unfortunately, he was still armed with his sword and she was not. Her bow was hooked securely into her quiver, and she doubted the orc would wait while she released it. Then remembering Toron's knife at her back, Galadwen drew it. Regrettably, she had no idea how to use such a weapon in combat, but the orc did not give her time to contemplate her shortcomings. With another feral growl, he raised his sword and ran at her.

Galadwen used her sight to avoid each of his strikes as he came at her, but he was skilled and cunning. His strikes started coming faster and changing direction part way through to follow her as she avoided the initial strike. The orc's image was turning into a confusing blur of possibilities. She could do nothing more than keep backing up to stay outside of the reach of his sword. Smelling victory, the orc cackled again as he lept at her. Galadwen saw the leap coming, but she did not see the rock behind her as she stepped out of his reach. Landing awkwardly on the rock, her foot slipped out from underneath her and she toppled backwards.

With the fall, Galadwen was shocked out of the future to see the orc leap at her again, sword held high, ready for the kill strike. Vainly, Galadwen raised her dagger arm to defend herself as the orc flew towards her. At the top of its leap, the orc's head jerked back, an arrow protruding from its eye. The creature fell to the ground, landing on her legs. With a speed enhanced by her fear, Galadwen frantically kicked the orc off her legs. It rolled over, dark glassy eye reflecting the stars above. It was dead.

Calming her frantic breath, Galadwen climbed to her shaky feet. Now she had stopped using her life force, her body felt fatigued, her mind weary, and the world around her dulled to her senses. Only moments had passed, but it felt like hours. Taking stock of her body's weakness and gathering her senses, she looked in the direction that the life-saving arrow had come from. She saw one of the soldiers with a bow in hand. It was the kind soldier who had shown concern when she stepped from the protection of the forest for the first time. Galadwen gave him a nod of thanks.

Around them lay the corpses of the wargs and orcs. Seeing the warg she had killed, Galadwen went to retrieve her sword. Heaving, she struggled to pull it out. With no life force flowing through her, enhancing her strength, it would not budge.

"If they die in pain, their muscles tense up," the kind soldier said as he approached her. "The muscles grip the sword, holding it in place." He reached for her sword and pushed it further in, before shoving it left then right, cutting a larger hole in the flesh with the blade. Then pulling it free, he whipped the blade around his head in a graceful arc. The dark blood of the warg flew from the sword in a red rainbow. Kneeling, with head bowed, the soldier offered her the cleaned sword back, hilt first. Galadwen got the impression he was doing more than just returning her sword.

"Form up," called Lieutenant Amathrel. "The rest of the orc horde is not far behind."

Galadwen accepted the offered sword, and sheathing it, she joined the squad as they formed up around her. Now the sword was back in her possession, the humming had returned to the back of her mind. The Lieutenant quickly checked the squad over.

Although she had nothing to compare it against, Galadwen thought they had fared well. Only one soldier was injured, with a bloody laceration to the arm. It had been hastily bandaged but the bright red blood was already seeping through the bandages.

"Steady pace to the top of the ridge," Lieutenant Amathrel called, and the squad set off.

At the base of the cliff, Galadwen watched the squad barely slow their pace as they nibbly climbed and lept the cliff. With her fatigued body, Galadwen struggled to follow them up the smooth rocky cliff. As she was about to draw on her life force, Toron's words of caution ran through her mind and she stopped herself.

Lieutenant Amathrel called the squad to a halt and sent two soldiers back to assist her up the cliff. Galadwen felt her cheeks burning with shame as the soldiers pulled her up the cliff. As she rejoined the squad, the Lieutenant looked her over. "Are you injured Galadwen?" she asked.

"Nay," Galadwen replied. "Only fatigued. But as long as there are no more cliffs to scale, I will keep up."

The Lieutenant frowned at her for a long moment before giving the order to continue. They scaled the ridge at a slow run with the orcs at their heels. Galadwen could feel the tension building in the squad as they climbed the ridge at a controlled pace and the orcs slowly gained on them. A quick glance over her shoulder showed a mass of black figures swarming up the ridge, many on all fours, using their long arms to help propel them up the hill. She could hear their grunts and cries of command above her own laboured breathing. Tripping over a stone, Galadwen returned her focus to her own body and making it up the hill without becoming a burden on the squad.

When they finally crested the ridge, Galadwen's sigh of relief was interrupted by a stream of profanity that flowed from Lieutenant Amathrel's mouth. Galadwen stared at her in shock. The only other elf she had heard talk like that was Nestor, and she did so only in defiance of elven society. She followed the Lieutenant's gaze and saw that the next valley was not the open grassy valley like all the previous ones. This valley was lined with the dark canopy of a thick forest.

"Won't the forest help hide our trap?" Galadwen asked.

"Our archery advantage is lost, communication and the front lines will be hard to maintain, and the possibility of orcs escaping will be greater. Outnumbered as we are, it will be a bloody battle unless Captain Erthor arrives before the orcs realise their advantage," the Lieutenant replied. "We have travelled further north than I thought. But there is no time to dwell on it, we will continue as per the plan."

With the orcs now within archery range, three soldiers quickly loosed a dozen arrows at them, downing an orc for every arrow. But it did little to slow the horde's ascent up the hill. They swarmed over their dead comrades with cries of anger and surged up the hill at an even greater speed.

"Run," the Lieutenant commanded, and the squad took off down the hill at a dead run.

With her fatigued body, all Galadwen's focus went towards concentrating on her footing. One misstep here and she would take out half the squad in her fall down the steep hill.

"Arrows incoming," called out one of the soldiers behind her.

"Split," commanded the Lieutenant. Galadwen somehow managed to keep her footing as the Lieutenant grabbed her arm and pulled her firmly to the right. The squad had split in two. Half veering right with Galadwen, and the other half veering left. Moments later a shower of arrows landed between the two groups.

"Close up," came the Lieutenant's call as they neared the bottom of the hill and the safety of the forest. The two groups angled towards each other so they met just as they reached the cover of the forest.

Entering the gloom of the forest, the squad slowed their pace to a loping gait. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Galadwen saw this forest was nothing like the forest of Lothlorien. The trees here barely reached twenty yards in height, were packed in tightly, and topped with a dark green canopy that looked almost black in the starlight. A thick knee-high bracken covered every space between the trees, hindering any movement and threatened to trip Galadwen with every step. It was suffocating and claustrophobic compared to the grand forests of Lothlorien.

"Lieutenant Amathrel," called a soldier, running towards them through the trees. It was Lagorben with half a dozen elves following close behind him.

"Lagorben," Lieutenant Amathrel said, nodding in reply to his salute. Dismissed, Lagorben rejoined his squad while the Lieutenant address the stern looking elf standing at the centre of those who came to meet them. "Lieutenant Thannor, there are 1700 orcs running down the ridge behind us. We removed a small warg pack but I suspect there may be more. From what I have seen of their tactics, their commander is cunning. Expect a trap. There has been no sign of the rest of the army."

"Thank you for the report, Amathrel," said Lieutenant Thannor. "We are ready for them. Dagon," the Lieutenant said, with a nod towards the soldier standing beside him, "will lead you through our lines. His squad will guard our left flank and ensure you are not followed."

With a nod, Lieutenant Amathrel accepted the order and dismissal. With Galadwen and the rest of the squad following, Lieutenant Amathrel followed Lieutenant Dagon past the other commanders and into the woods.

As they passed through the eerily quiet forest, soldiers would materialize out of the gloom. Dark motionless statues, they looked as much part of the forest as the trees. But to Galadwen's untrained eyes, she could see no army lines, only soldiers spaced as randomly as the tree trunks around them.

Just as Galadwen realised there were no more soldiers in the woods around them, she heard a feral yell from behind them, quickly followed by the muffled sounds of battle. Thumps and thuds, groans, and cries of pain and challenge, clashes of steel on steel, and the twang of bowstrings.

Lieutenant Dagon hurriedly lead them another thirty yards through the trees to a small creek. Soldiers silently emerged from the shadows on the far side.

"If any orcs follow you, we will stop them here," Lieutenant Dagon said to Amathrel.

Lieutenant Amathrel nodded in reply. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Be safe," she said, taking his shoulder in a familiar grasp.

"And you, Lieutenant Amathrel," he replied.

Lieutenant Amathrel gracefully leapt the creek and the rest of her squad followed. Galadwen gave Lieutenant Dagon a respectful nod. She had an odd feeling that she had seen his face in her dreams. But she could not remember any specifics to warn him about. WIth a feeling of uselessness, Galadwen followed Lieutenant Amathrel and her squad over the creek.

As Galadwen and the squad slowly made their way down the valley through the thick bracken, the sounds of the battle behind started to fade. It was replaced with the suffocating silence of the dark humid forest, and the soft sounds of the elves as they moved almost noiselessly through the bracken. But strangely, with the fading of the battle sounds, the humming in the back of Galadwen's mind did not fade.

"We've gone far enough through this damn bracken," Lieutenant Amathrel said, breaking the oppressive silence. "The north ridge should be far enough from the battle to be safe to travel." She turned left and Galadwen and the rest of the squad silently followed.

When they finally broke out of the forest, Galadwen gratefully breathed in the fresh air as her eyes adjusted to the brighter light of the starry night.

"Lieutenant," whispered one of the soldiers in an urgent hiss. Everyone froze. The ridge above them was lined with dark shadows. Hundreds of orcs stretching as far as they could see in both directions along the ridge. The elven army's trap had been turned against them, and the army had no idea. Fortunately, Galadwen and the squad were still in the shadows of the forest and had not been seen.

"Cover up," the Lieutenant said in a whispered command. As one, the squad lifted the hoods of their Lorien cloaks over their heads and wrapped them tightly around themselves, effectively hiding them from all but the keenest of eyes. Galadwen did the same with her own cloak.

"The forest has been used against us like I feared," the Lieutenant said, grinding her teeth. "Galuchin, scout the ridge to the left," she commanded. "I will scout the ridge to the right. Lagorben, inform Lieutenant Dagon of the second orc horde. We will get Galadwen clear of the trap then return to reinforce him. Everyone else, take cover within the treeline. Eat, drink and rest." Those instructions were directed towards Galadwen. "We may have to fight our way through. This second horde will attack before daybreak, but the night is still young, so we have time."

The squad split and Galadwen crept back into the treeline to wait with the remainder of the squad. She sat down, leaning against the trunk of a tree and started talking to it. But like the Black Ash trees in the soft lands of Lothlorien, this tree was asleep and it did not know her or welcome her presence. Galadwen wished she could sing to it, but with the orcs so close, that was not possible. The more she tried to talk to the tree to persuade it to share its life force, the more it seemed to ignore her. With a sigh of frustration, Galadwen closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Staring at the tangled maze of possibilities, Galadwen cringed at all the death. She had not seen this trap before, but then she had not been looking for it or even known what to look for. Her lack of tactical knowledge had restricted her understanding of the battle and the many possibilities. Now with so many beings involved, she could not make sense of the larger picture. Realising the limitations in her gift, Galadwen returned her focus on herself and those of Lieutenant Amathrel's squad. With fewer people, it was easier to make sense of their options and their chances of success. This time she didn't try to pick the most likely options, but looked at all of them, remembering each detail as best she could. With limited time, Galadwen dared not travel further than a couple of hours into the future.

Galadwen opened her eyes some time later to see Lieutenant Amathrel's frowning face hovering over her, and her hand on Galadwen's shoulder trying to shake her awake.

"What have you seen?" the Lieutenant demanded.

"A lot," Galadwen replied. "But I do not have the tactical knowledge to know what I am seeing. So tell me your plan and I will tell you what I have seen."

"The orcs on the ridge directly above us are on alert waiting for an attack. About 200 yards further down the valley their line ends where the ridge turns into the cliff that stretches down the valley to the Great River. The orcs there are restless and less disciplined. If we provide a tempting target, I believe they will abandon their post for the chance of a fight. Galadwen, you can then sneak past them and over the ridge to continue your journey north."

"I have seen that the distraction will work, but a few orcs will stay behind to guard the ridge." Galadwen swallowed, looking at her hands as she remembered seeing her death at the hands of one of the orcs.

"I need a volunteer to cross the ridge with Galadwen and ensure her safety," said the Lieutenant. The members of the squad looked at each other. None seemed willing to leave their comrades to what they all knew was going to be a bloody battle.

"I will," one of the soldiers eventually said. Looking around, Galadwen saw it was the kind soldier who had saved her life earlier.

"Thank you Gwennor," the Lieutenant replied with a small smile. "Signal when you are in place and we will make a distraction." The kind soldier, Gwennor, nodded. The Lieutenant turned to Galadwen. "This is where we part. Safe travels Galadwen. May the stars light your path and keep you safe."

"Thank you Lieutenant, and thank you all," Galadwen said with a small bow to the Lieutenant and her squad before standing and following Gwennor.

"We will follow the tree line to the cliffs," Gwennor whispered as they silently walked in the shadow of the forest.

"Thank you Gwennor, for saving my life and for volunteering," Galadwen replied softly. "May I ask why?"

"The whole squad has been tasked with your safety Galadwen," he said. "But I volunteered because I am of the same mind as Cullas."

"You know her?" Galadwen asked, surprised.

"Of course," Gwennor replied. "We are close friends. She wished to be here herself, but her request was denied."

"Why? By who?"

"Her captain, but ultimately, by our Lord and Lady. Why, I could not say for sure. But I would hazard a guess it is because of her recent outspoken opinions regarding our Lord and Lady and their treatment of you."

Galadwen nodded in understanding. From what she had seen of Cullas, she was not one to hide her true thoughts.

As they continued along the edge of the forest at a steady pace, Galadwen kept one eye on the orcs lining the ridge above them. She felt a chill of fear at their number. Images from her dreams flashed through her mind. Even if Captain Erthor arrived, it was going to be a bloody battle.

"Is there nothing we can do to help the army?" Galadwen whispered.

"Our priority is to get you out of here safely," Gwennor replied.

"But our army is trapped, and even if Captain Erthor arrives before these orcs attack, they will be fighting outnumbered, in difficult terrain. Hundreds of elves will die. I have seen it."

Gwennor said nothing in reply.

"Surely one person's life is not worth sacrificing hundreds of others," Galadwen insisted.

"What do you propose?" he asked, stopping to look at her. "That we turn you over to the orcs to be tortured for days or seasons until, barely a shadow of yourself, you finally break? And then hope they let the rest of the army go without a fight?" he asked with a glare. "Let me tell you now, it does not work like that. These orcs may have been ordered after you, but given the chance, they will hunt and kill any elf or free person that is unfortunate enough live in these lands. They spread like a sickness, bringing death wherever they go. These elves are not sacrificing their lives for you. They are fighting because they know every orc killed tonight is one less orc that pollutes these lands."

"Then can we not help?" Galadwen asked.

"I have my orders," Gwennor replied as he continued walking.

"Your orders were to help me cross this ridge safely," Galadwen said. "What if you helped me cross safely, then we drew some of the orcs off into our own trap?"

He sighed, stopping to look at her again. "Galadwen, the fact that you suggest it, only shows how little you know about warfare. It would be suicide to try something as outnumber as we are, in unknown terrain, where the enemy holds the tactically superior ground, with no backup or retreat options. Even with a full squad, the possible casualty rate would be too high. My orders were not to help you commit suicide."

Galadwen looked away, feeling pain at the bluntness of his words, but also at her own failure. She had seen all the death that would happen tonight, but she had failed to do anything to stop it. And now there was nothing she could do to help the other elves. As Gwennor continued walking, Galadwen followed him with a heavy heart.

A little while later Gwennor stopped and looked at her. "I am sorry for how I spoke. It was unkind. Your bravery and desire to help are commendable."

"I know I am young, and there is much I do not know. But I hate this feeling of useless," Galadwen replied.

"That is a feeling all soldiers know too well. All we can do is have faith in our commanders and trust that if we follow our orders to the best of our ability, we will not be useless," Gwennor said with a smile. "So with that in mind, we should start our assent here."

The top of the ridge was no longer visible due to the cliff that had started near the top of the slope. Galadwen followed Gwennor as they stepped out from under the shadow of the forest and slowly moved up the slope. They kept low and moved with the slow steady pace of a snail. The crawling pace was almost painful to Galadwen, who half expected an orc to look over the top of the cliff at any moment and spot them. As they climbed above the forest, the sounds of battle echoed strangely around the valley, with some noises sounding far off, and others making her jump at their apparent proximity.

When they finally reached the base of the cliff, Galadwen could see it was only a few yards high at this point. A little further down the valley, it increased to nearly the full height of the ridge. Gwennor signalled for her to stay at the base of the cliff while he scaled it to scout ahead. Only a few moments later Gwennor nibbly climbed back down the cliff. To her questioning face, he gave her a confirmation nod. Then with his hands over his mouth, he made a long trilling call of a Nightjar. A moment later his call was answered by another Nightjar, back along the ridge.

At the reply, Gwennor indicated that Galadwen should follow him up the cliff. As she climbed, Galadwen was reminded how fatigued her body was, but this time they moved at a slow pace, so she had no trouble keeping up with Gwennor.

Reaching the top of the cliff, Galadwen poked her head over to see the hill sloping up to the top of the ridge, about eighty yards away. Outlined against the night sky were the silhouettes of a dozen orcs lounging about on the ridge. Along the ridge to the left were groups of orcs at regular intervals, but to her right was only one other group of orcs, then the ridge was clear. Gwennor signalled that they would wait there, clinging to the top of the cliff.

It was less than a comfortable place to wait. Galadwen could feel her body tiring as she clung to the cliff. Her legs started to shake and her fingers were cramping as they clung to the small handholds in the rock. The longer she stayed still, the more she feared any movement would cause to her body to give way and she would tumble down the cliff or at the very least make enough noise to warn every orc on the ridge of their presence. So Galadwen stayed frozen to the cliff, hoping Lieutenant Amathrel's distraction would come soon.

A sudden death cry of an orc up the ridge signalled the start of the distraction. The orcs in the group above them all jumped up, suddenly on high alert. As the orcs excitedly muttered amongst themselves, the group at the end of the line came running over to them. The sounds of a fight in full swing were now coming from along the ridge, and with every scream, the orcs above Galadwen and Gwennor would twitch and take a step towards the action. After a short discussion between the two groups of orcs, three remained at their post while the rest took off at a run along the ridge towards the sounds of fighting.

Galadwen watched the group run up to the next orc post, but only a few from that group joined them as they continued along the ridge towards the fighting. So absorbed in watching the orcs leave, Galadwen jumped in surprise at Gwennor's touch on her shoulder. He signalled that they should move up over the ridge. Then unhooking his bow, Gwennor swung himself over the top of the cliff and before he had even landed, an arrow was protruding from one of the orc's heads. With sickening thuds, the other two orcs received the same treatment before their comrade had even hit the ground. Galadwen stared in shock. Her gift gave her the skills to shoot accurately, but even with all the life force she dared to draw, she doubted she could match Gwennor's speed.

Gwennor scanned the area, then bent to help Galadwen over the edge of the cliff.

"Move quickly and quietly," he whispered. "We will make a run for the far side of the ridge."

Galadwen nodded and followed Gwennor up the slope at a steady, silent run.

She dared not look in the direction of the orcs as they ran with all haste up the hill. Cresting the ridge, Gwennor stopped to retrieve his arrows from the orcs. It was a bloody business that Galadwen knew she should be watching to learn, but she could not bring herself to do it. The sounds of it were enough to turn her stomach.

Instead, she scanned the ridge. The orcs, further along, were all looking in the opposite direction where, in the distance, she could make out Lieutenant Amathrel's squad in a hugely outnumbered fight. They had broken the orc line on the ridge and were desperately trying to hold it against the orcs swarming them from both sides. Galadwen doubted they could hold their position for long before the orcs surrounded them. Their only choice would be to retreat back down the hill to the forest. But outnumbered as they were, it would be a dangerous retreat.

"May Tulkas protect them, and Mandos greet them with open arms," Gwennor prayed, staring along the ridge at the desperate battle his squad fought. Looking at him, Galadwen could see the pain in his eyes.

"We could . . ." Galadwen started to say.

"No," Gwennor replied with a stern look. All the pain was now gone from his eyes as he clung to his duty. "We continue," he said. "I will see you safely over the next ridge and beyond the reach of the orcs." With no further comment, he turned and led her down the far side of the ridge.

With a final look back along the ridge and over the valley, something caught Galadwen's eyes.

"Gwennor," she called out in excitement. "Captain Erthor has arrived. All is not lost."

He turned and looked at her with horror on his face. Then his eyes flicked towards the orcs along the ridge. A few of the orcs had turned to look in their direction. Galadwen and Gwennor stood there staring at the orcs, not daring to move. The seconds ticked by until finally one called out a war cry and the orcs charged.

"Run!" Gwennor yelled at her, pulling her towards the far side of the ridge. Hating her own stupidity, Galadwen breathed in some life force and took off at a run. They crossed the ridge and started descending the other side at a dead run. The rocky, uneven ground was so steep Galadwen felt as if she was almost flying as she took long leaps down the slope.

"We'll make a stand at the willows," Gwennor called from behind. For the first time, Galadwen took in the quickly nearing valley below. It was an open meadow with a line of willows on the far side, suggesting a creek flowed there. Beyond that was a tall cliff, nearly reaching to the top of the next ridge.

Glancing behind them, Galadwen counted about three scores of orcs scrambling down the hill after them. She and Gwennor had managed to gain some distance, but the sheer number of them frightened her.

"How will we defeat them?" Galadwen asked as she ran, trying to not let her panic show.

"You will be alright Galadwen," Gwennor said. "We will take at least half of them out as they cross the plain. The rest we will deal with together. I did not see your fight with Toron but I have heard about it. Whatever skills you drew on then will be enough to keep you safe now. These orcs have poor armour, they are lowly soldiers and poorly trained. As long as we keep moving so they cannot surround us, we can defeat them."

Gwennor's words did little to sooth Galadwen. She had seen her death too many times to doubt that it would happen.

The flying turned into a full sprint as the slope levelled out to the valley floor. Galadwen felt her body pushing onwards as the life force flowed into her, giving her the speed and power to keep up with Gwennor. She just hoped she had enough to last the battle.

As they finally reached the willows on the far side of the valley, Gwennor already had his bow out. Stopping just outside the cover of the trees he loaded an arrow, and pointing it towards the sky, he paused to take aim. With a twang of the bowstring, the arrow flew in a graceful arc up into the sky. Squinting, Galadwen followed its path down and into the chest of one of the leading orcs running across the valley towards them. Before that arrow had found its target, Gwennor was already taking aim for the next shot.

Galadwen estimated the distance at about 500 yards. She had never even tried to fire an arrow that far. She didn't even know if her bow could do it. But as Gwennor let loose his third arrow, she unhooked her bow. Loading an arrow into it, she closed her eyes and looked to the future. Drawing the arrow back as far as the string allowed, Galadwen checked her stance, slowed her breathing and watched her possibilities. It was not easy to adjust her position by the smallest hair to correct her aim. When she was finally satisfied that her chance of success was high enough, the orcs were within 400 yards of them.

She let loose, and opening her eyes to see it in the present, she watched it find a target. It had missed the chest of the orc she had been aiming for but hit the leg of the orc behind him. Screaming in pain and rage, he went down and was trampled by other orcs following him. With grim satisfaction, Galadwen loaded another arrow.

"Pull back," Gwennor ordered when the orcs were within 100 yards of the willows. He had let loose a full quiver of arrows, with each one finding a mark. Galadwen had managed eight arrows, with only half of those kill shots, the rest had found marks, but were only wounding shots. The orcs were only now getting within a distance she was used to shooting at, so she was hesitant to stop. But at the same time, she knew to survive this she would have to trust Gwennor's tactical knowledge. So she let loose the arrow in her bow and ran into the willow copse after Gwennor.

Thirty yards in they reached a large ditch with a creek flowing along the bottom. Without breaking stride, Gwennor leapt it. Wishing she had a staff to help her, Galadwen followed him across. He landed at the top of the far bank and already had an arrow loaded. Galadwen's leap didn't take her as far and missing the top of the bank, she hit the bank hard, knocking the air from her lungs. As Gwennor continued to fire off arrows, Galadwen scrambled up the bank to join him. When the orcs reached the willows, they spread out, coming at them from nearly all sides.

"Gwennor?" Galadwen asked, worry obvious in her voice. "They're surrounding us."

"Just keep firing Galadwen," he replied, letting off another arrow as he spoke. "Remove as many as you can before they charge. You will be alright Galadwen."

No sooner had he finished speaking, a roar went up from the orcs around them as they charged. Galadwen released a final arrow before drawing her sword to meet the oncoming orcs. She drew in more life force and opened her eyes in the future. She sidestepped the first orc strike and countered it with her own that took off his sword arm. Then avoiding a strike from another orc, she put her sword through its neighbour's chest, before ducking to avoid the next strike, while taking out another orc's legs. She was a whirl of graceful motion. Every movement had a purpose, whether to defend, attack or protect Gwennor's back.

Together they fought, side by side, killing orc after orc. But it wasn't enough. The orcs were pushing in closer, giving them less room to avoid the attacks. She had to keep sacrificing kill strikes for ones to give her more space to move. Gwennor had cleared the orcs who tried to attack them from the creek, so now they fought with their heels brushing the edge of the bank. The orcs kept pressing them harder, even as more of their comrades died.

"Galadwen," Gwennor shouted during a strike that sliced the throat open of one orc and knocked the sword from the hand of another. "We need to cross the creek." He spun inside the attack of another orc and shoved it back into the orcs following it." You cross first then give me back up with your bow." He sidestepped an attack and used the orc's momentum to kick him to the ground between them so Galadwen could finish him while Gwennor defended two other attacks.

Following Gwennor's orders with the complete faith of a soldier, Galadwen sliced at one orc and shoved another back before turning and leaping the ditch. With all the life force flowing through her from the fighting, she made the leap easily. Turning, she sheathed her sword and unhooked her bow. In the short moment it took to do that, the orcs on the other side swarmed at Gwennor, quickly overwhelming him.

As he went down under a mass of orcs, Galadwen loaded her bow and started firing. In her desperation, she shot arrows off faster than she had ever done before. The orcs on Gwennor changed from a stabbing and kicking mass to a still pile. Then the orcs still swarming in on him fell one after the other in quick succession. The remaining orcs saw her alone on the other bank and started to charge towards her. They fell as well. For a moment she was the bringer of death and none were immune.

It wasn't until, arrow loaded and ready to fire, did she open her eyes and look around to see none were left alive. Returning the arrow to the quiver, Galadwen half fell and half ran down the side of the ditch and scrambled up the far side. Slipping in blood as she climbed over the still warm bodies of her foe, she frantically tore at the orc pile. Heaving and shoving bodies off, Galadwen searched desperately for her companion, her protector, and her saviour. She found Gwennor's arm first. Then following it she found the ruined bloody mess that was his armoured torso. And finally, she freed his head. With his eyes closed, she thought Gwennor was dead. Then he coughed, a trickle of blood escaping his mouth and running down his chin.

"Gwennor," Galadwen said softly, as she wiped the blood from his mouth. He blinked open his grey eyes, focusing them on her. "We did it, the orcs are dead. We are safe," she said.

He gave her a shaky smile as his face steadily lost its colour. "Good," he whispered, coughing again. No blood came up, but Galadwen could hear it bubbling in his chest with every pained breath he took. "You are not safe Galadwen. More will come. You must go. Run and don't stop until you reach the Gladden Fields. Only then will you be safe."

"I can not leave you," she replied. "You need a medic."

"No," he whispered. "I am beyond a medic. The halls of Mandos call to me now." A deep horn of the orcs sounded, followed by the barking growls of a warg pack. "They are coming. Take my arrows," he said, trying to free his second quiver from his back. With each movement, pain flashed across his face. Galadwen tried to ease his pain by helping him with the quiver.

"I can not leave you for the orcs," she said, her voice shaking with emotion.

"Fear not Galadwen, for they will not find me alive," he replied as he slowly unsheathed a dagger from his waist. His face was as white as bone and his shallow breathing was slowing. "Go," he said.

"No," she cried as tears left tracks down her face. "I will not leave you."

His words were barely gasps of air now. "I do not want to suffer anymore," he gasped, his eyes pleading with her. "Go. Run."

With tears dripping from her chin and mixing with his blood, she bent and kissed his forehead.

"Thank you," she said, burning his face into her memory. He gave her a smile, as much in relief as anything. Seeing the relief in his eyes steadied Galadwen's resolve as she stood. The warg growls were getting nearer now, and her sword was humming loudly in the back of her mind. Hooking Gwennor's quiver to her back, she gave him a final nod of thanks and farewell, then with tears blurring her vision, she turned and ran for the cliffs.


	10. Chapter 10 - Father

Chapter 10 - Father

With the wargs growling and snapping at her heels, Galadwen drew in more of her life force as she pushed her body to run faster. Reaching the base of the cliffs, she leapt into the air, cloak flaring out behind as she flew towards the sheer rock face. Hitting the cliff hard, she scrambled for handholds, frantically scaling it in leaps and swinging jumps. The sounds of the wargs clawing at the cliff below urged her upwards.

Pausing on a tiny ledge sixty yards up, Galadwen looked below to see the wargs using their powerful hind legs to launch themselves up the cliffs. Their long claws gouged at the rock as they scrambled to keep their upward momentum, before eventually falling back down. Galadwen breathed a sigh of relief as she saw they were unable to scale the sheer cliff. But her relief was short lived. After a shouted order from one of the orcs riding a warg, most of the pack turned to ride hard up the valley. With three wargs left at the base of the cliff to prevent her retreat, she suspected the rest were on their way to block off her escape.

Turning back to the cliff, Galadwen drew in more life force and continued up it. Fear of the wargs trapping her on the cliff drove Galadwen to push herself upwards as fast as her life force infused body could go. Reaching the top of the cliff at such a pace, she flung herself in the air. A glance around as she flew through the air, showed the wargs had not reached the top before her, but the quiet hum in the back of her mind said it was only a matter of time before they caught up. As her feet touched the ground, Galadwen took off at a run. She crested the ridge and flew down the other side.

The land in front of her changed to a flat landscape that stretched as far as her eyes could see, dotted with dark shadows of shrubs and trees. Using the stars to guide her, Galadwen ran north across the vast land.

As the monotonous landscape flew by and the miles passed below her feet, her mind started reliving the recent horrors. She had failed to change the odds of the bloody battle. All the death she had seen in her dreams flashed through her mind with the knowledge that much of it would now be a reality. She had failed not only the army but also their families waiting back in Lothlorien. Many of the elves who had waved and sung them farewell at the north gate would never see the face of their loved one again. She had failed them.

She had failed Lieutenant Amathrel and her squad. The fact that they had knowingly sacrificed themselves so she could escape the trap was heavy upon her heart. She should have seen it, she should have stopped the Lieutenant. Galadwen knew her life was not worth even one of theirs. She had failed them. But most of all, she had failed Gwennor. His death was her doing as much as if she had stabbed him through the heart.

All her years of studying the future had been a waste, for when it truly mattered, she had failed. The gift was wasted on her, she was not worthy of it. The guilt and self-loathing she felt at her failures was like a bottomless hole in her stomach, sucking in all hope and light. Leaving her empty, except for a darkness. As she continued to run, that darkness slowly grew.

With the coming of the dawn, Galadwen felt no joy or warmth from the rising sun. Her shadow was her only companion, stretched away from her to the west. As the morning passed and her shadow shrunk, Galadwen's heart became darker. The hate that she had buried for so long now bubbled to the surface and filled her empty chest. She hated the elven society of Lothlorien, that had shunned her from birth for something that was not her fault and she could not change. She hated her extended family that had been too ashamed of her to even meet her. She hated Celeborn for being too proud to love her. But more than anything, she hated her mother. She hated her for doing the unthinkable and choosing to make a child outside of what was accepted by society. She hated her mother for loving her people more than she loved her daughter. For choosing to rule Lothlorien instead of raising the one she gave birth to. She hated that the last time she had seen her mother was the day she declared to the court that she was leaving. And she hated that the almighty Lady of Lothlorien would not even come to see her daughter off on a quest that was going to take her life.

The sun had passed its zenith, descending towards the mountains in the west, and Galadwen continued to run, not stopping for water or nourishment. With hate flowing through her body, she barely noticed that she was still running north. And without conscious thought, she slowly drew on her life force, feeding her body the energy it needed to keep going.

It was not until the humming in the back of her mind became louder and more urgent did she come out of her dark thoughts and take in the land around her. The patches of trees had become larger and closer together, nearly forming a forest. It was through one of these groves of trees that she was now running. There was no sign of wargs on her trail, and listening behind, she could hear nothing following her.

Then the sound of distant screaming drew her attention to the path ahead. The screams of terror were female, and underneath it, the unmistakable sound of wargs could be heard. Unhooking her bow, Galadwen ran towards the sounds as fast as her legs would carry her.

She burst out of the forest into a field of mayhem. The sweet smell of wild strawberries filled her nose, as she took in the scene before her. Women and children were being run down by wargs as they tried to flee. Half a dozen men to her right fired arrows at the wargs while trying to gather the women and children into a protected circle. In front of her, Galadwen watched a small boy trip and fall as a warg leapt in for the kill. She knew without a doubt that these were the same wargs who had been chasing her. They were here because of her. Anger turned her vision red, and without another thought, Galadwen closed her eyes. With the help of her gift, she shot an arrow through the warg's eye as it landed, quickly followed by another arrow for the orc rider. Feeling the anger fill her, she let it take over, as arrows flew from her bow in rapid succession. Each one flying true and finding its mark.

The remaining orcs and wargs saw what was happening, but their attempts to avoid her arrows were futile for she saw it all. Her body hummed with the amount of life force she had drawn, and her mind could see with a new clarity. She knew and understood all their movements before they happened. Galadwen moved with the speed and grace of the wind as they charged her. But no claw, fang, or blade could touch her. She was a revenging tempest, swirling around their attacks and raining death upon them in return. A fire burned inside, fueled by every enemy she downed. It took pleasure in the death she dealt. Burning ever hotter.

Until, with an arrow loosed into the eye of the last warg, the enemy was no more. With the next arrow already drawn, Galadwen opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. Bodies covered the field around her, their blood and stink mixing unpleasantly with the strawberries. As she lowered her bow, the fire in her died as quickly as it had ignited. Galadwen watched the boy she had saved struggle to crawl out from under the warg. She wanted to go to him. To help him. But her body would not move. Trying to draw on her life force, Galadwen felt an icy chill down her spine as none came. Instead, a deathly cold spread from her chest, consuming the embers of her revenging fire, and all the warmth in its path. Her vision went black as her mind drifted into darkness.

She was in the void again, but this time she was not alone. The putrid smell of death that gnawed at her senses was in that absolute darkness with her. It was searching for her, reaching out festering tentacles of death and decay. Wanting to flee from it, Galadwen reached for her body to pull herself away. But it was not there. She was lost in the void with no connection to her body. No anchor to give herself direction or push and pull herself against it.

With her body lost to her, Galadwen's spirit could do nothing more than helplessly float in the void as the tentacles found her. She struggled against their repulsive hold, fighting desperately to free herself. But the more she fought, the tighter they clung, wrapping her in a suffocating cocoon of death and decay. Something was clawing at her mind, demanding to be let in. Denying it entry, she used her stubborn determination to form a protective shield around her mind.

Unfortunately, it was not so easily put off. Again and again, it attacked her mind, like a battering ram to a fortified gate. At first, she held it off, her defences absorbing each blow as they landed hard. But after what felt like an age, Galadwen started to tire. She could feel cracks forming in her defences, and with each new strike, they slowly grew larger. But still, she kept fighting, blow after blow. Until finally her defences shattered. Leaving her mind painfully exposed.

The sense of death and decay poured into her mind. Every thought and memory she ever had was exposed to it, as it forcefully invaded her mind. She wished death would come to end the violent attack, but death did not come. She tried to flee its prodding as it sifted through her mind, but every time she did, it would pull her back. Until, with apparent frustration at her continued struggles, it pulled her back so hard she got a glimpse of its being. Fighting her fear and disgust, Galadwen reached out her conscious mind towards this thing and found that, as her mind was open to it, its mind was open to her.

But where it could flick through her thoughts and memories, like flicking through pages of a book, she could only see its current thoughts, although vast were these. Many of the thoughts were no more than a glimpse or impression, except for one. The image of a golden ring as was cut from this being's finger with a broken blade. Nestor had sung songs of the stories of old. Stories that told of a great and dark ring of power, that was cut from the hand of its master by a broken blade wielded by Isildur, the King of Gondor and Arnor. That ring answered to only one person. The Dark Lord, Sauron.

As if Galadwen's thought of his name called it, a figure amongst the tentacles materialised before her spirit, a silhouette against the dark. A soft laugh filled her mind.

"Yes," came a voice, smooth and soothing. "And I know you, Galadwen, daughter of Galadriel."

A renewed fear filled Galadwen as she recalled the stories Nestor had told. Of Melkor's apprentice and most trusted lieutenant whose desire for power and control of Middle-Earth surpassed even his fallen master. His evil treachery of all things good and pure had plagued the world since the First Age. And this fallen Maia was in her mind.

He laughed again. "You do not need to fear me, child of Ilúvatar. For I see a darkness in you that I know all too well. We are similar you and I." As the Dark Lord talked, she could feel him still sifting through her memories, looking for information on the White Council and its members. Terrified that he would discover her quest to protect the one who carried a ring of power, she filled every memory of Gandalf with thoughts of longing to meet the one who she hoped was her father.

"No," she thought. "We are not the same."

"Perhaps," he replied. "But I was once like you are now. Shunned by the Valar, I was forced from my beloved home in the undying lands. With nowhere else to go, I came to Middle-Earth and found a new home in the house of Malkor. He accepted me when no one else would. Offering me protection and a family. He was like a father to me, teaching me all that he knew. You too have been thrown out of your home, but I would be your family if you wish it. I can give you a home like Malkor did me." As he said that, an image of a dark fortress on a hill flashed before her. She recognised its jagged towers from songs. Dol Guldur. There she saw herself standing on one of the towers, smiling as she looked out over the landscape, with the Dark Lord at her side.

"I can give you the knowledge and power to seek revenge on those who have wronged you." Another image flashed before her. She strode through Caras Galadhon. Great and powerful was she, as elves fled from her in fear.

"Please," he said with a voice as smooth and sweet as honey. "Let me be a father to you. Let me become the family you so greatly desire."

"No," she thought, with a little less certainty. "I have a family, I have Nestor."

"Nestor feels the call of the undying lands. When she learns that your spirit has left your body, she will leave you. But I will not."

"But I am not dead," Galadwen protested.

Sauron laughed gently. "What do you think death is to the undying dear child? When our body dies, our spirit does not."

"If I am dead, why have I not gone to the Halls of Mandos?" she asked.

"Only the pure of heart are accepted into the halls," Sauron replied. "You see we are alike, for why else would you be here with me?"

Galadwen could feel her heart breaking. She had been unworthy in life and in death. Faces flashed through her mind. Lieutenant Amathrel, Gwennor, and the rest of the squad who had fought to protect her. Captain Erthor, Lieutenant Dagon, and many other nameless faces of the army. Galadwen saw their faces of pain as they died in images of blood and gore. She had failed them. Their deaths were on her hands.

But then another face flashed into her mind. A human boy with ash-coloured hair cut short and sticking up at all angles. Big hazel eyes gazed up at her in wonder. It was the boy from the strawberry field. He was not dead, she had saved him. When she thought of that, his smile broke into a cheeky grin that melted her heart. She reached out towards him, seeing him grow and change before her mind's eye. His face changed, growing older into the face of a man, that then changed with age. As she watched these changes, she knew what she saw was the future of this boy. He would have a future. She had given him that possibility. A small spark of hope ignited within her. She was not a complete failure. At least one life had been saved because of her.

"No!" shouted Sauron. His voice a torrent of rage and anger, that hit her like a blow to the chest. "You did not save him. It was your fault the wargs attacked those people."

Bracing herself against the mental blow that threatened to shred her spirit into pieces, Galadwen stood in defiance of the Dark Lord's will. "No," she calmly replied, finally seeing him and his honeyed words for what they were. "It is your fault, not mine." Within her, the spark grew in a burst of light. The tentacles sifting through her memories retreated from the light and the Dark Lord growled in anger. "The orcs and wargs are your agents. The death they brought is by your doing. I can not save them all. But I have saved one, and that small victory was worth it." With every thought, her convictions and internal light grew stronger, shielding and bracing her spirit against the Dark Lord's anger.

"I will destroy you and all you hold dear," Sauron said in a deadly calm voice, before his mind closed to her.

Galadwen felt a chill at the words, but she had little time to dwell on it. The figure before her started to grow, filling the void with its putrid presence. That presence was surrounding her, suffocating her spirit in death and darkness. She could do nothing but accept her fate with dignity as the Dark Lord slowly engulfed her.

As the darkness sucked the light and life from her spirit, she heard a whisper. Like a tickle in the back of her mind. Straining her senses in the direction it had come from, she heard it again.

"Galadwen," the whisper said, as faintly as a breath upon the wind.

The darkness had fed on nearly all her light and was slowly extinguishing her last spark of life. With a last flash of hope, Galadwen reached for the owner of the voice. In finding a familiar presence, she pulled the remains of her spirit towards it, flying from the suffocating clutches of the Dark Lord.

"Galadwen," came the whisper again, louder this time, as she flew through the void, fleeing the wrath of Sauron.

Ever onwards she fled through the endless void, pulling herself towards the familiar presence that whispered her name. A speck of light appeared before her, and as she continued forward, it slowly grew larger. The light materialised into a kneeling figure in the distance. She rushed forward, stopping suddenly before the figure that glowed with a soft white light. Cloaked and hooded in a grey, she could see nothing of the figure except for a hand. Wrinkled with age, it reached out into the darkness, palm down. Upon a finger was a ring of fire. As she looked closer, the hand rested on the forehead of a dark-haired person. Then the vague shape of a body began to materialise out of the darkness. It was lying on a cot and a sparkle of silver shined off the motionless chest. Leaning in to look closer, Galadwen saw two mallorn trees engraved into a leather vest.

She stumbled back in shock, with the sudden realisation that it was her body that lay upon the cot. After steadying her nerve, she looked closely at the figure kneeling before her deathbed.

"Galadwen," the figure whispered. She did not know his voice, but his presence was familiar. She knew him. She had followed him in her dreams since she had been able to control her gift.

"Gandalf," she said, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

His head shot up, and with the sudden movement, his hood fell back revealing the kind old face of the one she hoped was her father. Beneath his bushy eyebrows, his grey eyes, damp with tears, flashed with sudden hope. "Galadwen," he said, his eyes sparkling with determination. Gandalf leaned forward over her body and started chanting under his breath in the language of the Valar. The ring of fire upon his finger started to glow a soft red as it rested on her forehead. The glow pulsed with his chanting, slowly becoming brighter until it was a white light as bright as the sun. Galadwen had to squint to see the silhouette of Gandalf against the brightness of his ring. Then in a flash of blinding light, Gandalf stopped chanting, the ring stopped glowing, and Galadwen could feel the pull of her body on her spirit.

In amazement, she reached forward and touched the hand of her body. Everything went black. Galadwen could suddenly feel pain. A stabbing pain in her chest. She needed air. Taking a gasping breath, Galadwen opened her eyes to see Gandalf's fatherly face staring down at her.

"Welcome back Galadwen," he said with a warm smile.

"Gandalf," she said in a hoarse whisper. "How? I was dead."

"Now, now," Gandalf replied. "There will be time for questions later." He brought a water skin to her lips. "Drink this and rest. We will talk once you have gained some more strength."

As Galadwen drank the offered water, she felt how fatigued her body was, but what scared her more was the empty feeling in her chest. Only the smallest amount of life force remained to her. Any major exertion and she could fade.

"Are there any trees nearby?" she asked him.

"My dear Galadwen, you are in a tree," he said.

For the first time, Galadwen looked beyond Gandalf and was amazed by what she saw. They were in a small room of irregular shape, constructed of timber and thatch. Part of the wall beside the cot was the rough bark of a tree trunk. Above her head, a large branch ran through the centre of the ceiling, and out beyond the far wall. Beyond Gandalf was an open doorway, through which she could see a clear blue sky. Warm sunlight shone through a square window above her head and carved wind catchers tinkled in the breeze, casting dancing shadows on the tree trunk.

"Where am I?" Galadwen asked in wonder as she moved her hand to touch upon the bark of the tree. The tree was young compared to those of Lothlorien. It slept soundly as she sent it a greeting and thanked it for its support and shelter.

"In Gladden Fields, in the village of Malthen Told, or as it is locally known, the Golden Isle," Gandalf said, speaking the last name in Westron. "You are the guest of Ella. Apparently, you saved her son from the wargs. Thinking you were dead and wanting to honour you, she brought you to her home for a week of mourning while a burial raft was made, as is their custom. It is fortunate that I was not delayed another day or your body would now be floating down the Anduin and out of my reach."

"How did you come to be here?" Galadwen asked.

Gandalf gave her a warm smile. "I know you will have a thousand questions, and I promise to answer them all as best I can. But for now, you must rest. I will return later with enough food and drink to quench even your famed appetite." He stood and walked towards the doorway.

"But how did . . ." she started to ask his retreating frame.

"Rest Galadwen," came his stern reply over her words, and then he was gone.

Sighing in frustration at all the unanswered questions running through her mind, Galadwen snuggled down into the cot, with her back against the rough bark of the tree. Although it was unknown to her, the presence of the tree was comforting at her back.

She feared to sleep because her dreaming could use the last of her life force, and the last thing she wanted was to return to the void to be at the mercy of Sauron. So slowing her breathing, Galadwen did the next best thing and entered the meditative rest of the elves. She could faintly feel her drained life force slowly moving around her body, brushing against that of the tree. Learning from her past experience with unknown trees, Galadwen did not ask it for any life force. Instead, she silently spoke to the tree, telling it of the trees that had been her friends in Lothlorien, of the things she and Laerorneth would create, and of the days she had spent crawled up in other trees throughout the forest. She then told the tree of the night in the Soft Lands and the miracle that had occurred as dawn broke. As she remembered herself singing the song, Galadwen could feel the tree at her back listening to every word.

Galadwen wished she could sing for the tree like she had done in the Soft Lands, instead of sharing only the pale imitation from her memories. But she did not have the strength and energy to do more than lie on the cot and send thoughts to the tree. As the song finished, and the trees in her memory shook themselves awake, Galadwen could feel the tree behind her trying to wake. She reached out her senses to it and was surprised to find that the tree's life force was flowing through her. Sending the tree a thought of gratitude, Galadwen closed her eyes and settled back against the trunk to pass the time by telling the tree some of her favourite tales that Nestor had told her.

When she opened her eyes again, the small room was shrouded in the darkness of night. Stretching, Galadwen felt her body strengthened, but it was far from recovered. A shadow at the foot of the cot moved, making Galadwen jump and her heart pound in fear until her eyes told her it was only Gandalf.

An orange glow came from his pipe as he breathed in. Then exhaling, he filled the room with a fragrant smoke.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

Galadwen moved to a sitting position, keeping her back against the trunk of the tree and hanging her legs off the side of the cot. "Better," she replied. "Famished."

Gandalf chuckled in the darkness. "There is food and drink at your feet."

She hurriedly reached for the food, until a wave of nausea reminded her to take it slow. There was a large bowl of summer fruit and berries, a dozen small loaves of bread in a cloth, and a large mug of mead. Leaning back against the tree, Galadwen started on the bowl of fruit while Gandalf puffed away on his pipe in the corner of the room.

Galadwen was relieved that he was still here, and seemed in no hurry to leave. Part of her had feared that he would be gone before her questions could be answered. But with those fears eased, she was able to enjoy the food and the comforting presence of Gandalf and his pipe.

"You know," Gandalf said between puffs. "In all my years, I have only met a few people who can eat as much as feeds a whole family in one sitting. But you are the first elf."

"Half-elf," replied Galadwen, failing to hide the bitterness in her voice.

Gandalf hummed thoughtfully to himself as he continued puffing on his pipe. Galadwen forced herself to focus on eating the food in front of her and not on the question she desperately wanted to ask him but didn't know how.

As Galadwen was washing down the final loaf with the last of the mead, Gandalf finished his pipe and tucked it away in his robe. Now she was done eating, Galadwen knew it was time to start asking her questions, but she did not know how to start.

"Yes," Gandalf said into the silence that had settled around them.

"Yes?" Galadwen asked, puzzled.

"In answer to your question," Gandalf said with a twinkle in his eye. "Yes."

"What question?" she asked, this time unsure but hopeful.

"The question that all children in your position ask," Gandalf replied. "For the last few decades you have known the answer, and yes you are correct."

"How did you know?" Galadwen asked, her heart awash with too many emotions to make sense of them.

"Although I was forbidden to visit you, Nestor has been kind enough to keep me informed of your wellbeing. I do not doubt you hold some animosity towards me, for my part in bringing you into a world that has not accepted you. And I am sorry for the pain you have felt. My only excuse is that I have loved your mother for many an Age, and could never deny her anything. But here I am getting ahead of myself. To answer your questions, I should start from where all good stories must start, the beginning.

"The first time I laid eyes upon Galadriel, I knew my heart belonged to her. I do not know who could look upon such beauty and not give their heart to it. This was a time of innocence in Valinor, before the Kingslaying. Galadriel had come to the Gardens of Lorien to rest and meditate, as many elves would. I came across her, reclining on the mossy bank of a dark pool, awash in the silver light of Telperion. Green stars of the forest sparkled about her and reflected in the pool below. The reflection was broken only by the ripples of her fingers as they traced gentle circles upon the surface. She looked up at me and smiled. And in that moment, my heart was hers.

"I was different then from what I am now. Younger, but perhaps wiser. She stayed a long time in the Gardens of Lorien and I loved her more with every moment we spent together. But for a long time, I dared not voice my love. For although we were both immortals of Valinor, we were not the same. A union between us would not have been allowed.

"So I loved her from the deepest recesses of my heart, dreading the time that she would leave the Gardens. But when years passed and she did not leave, I began to hope that she too cared for me like I did her. With every day that passed my hope slowly grew into certainty. Until one evening I risked it all and told her that my heart belonged to her, from the moment my eyes first saw her until the end of time. The smile she gave me then was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Full of hope, excitement, and love. From that moment on, for many blissful days, we loved each other in a secret union.

"Until, in a moment of foolish jealousy, I declared my love for her in front of another who was vying for her favour. In his spite, this elf threatened to go to the Valar and have us punished for our forbidden love unless Galadriel would agree to be his wife. Refusing to be forced into a something, but not wanting to bring harm to me, she chose to leave the Gardens of Lorien. On the day she left, she took my heart with her. I think Galadriel knew that if she had asked me to go with her, I would have abandoned my duty to follow her, even if it meant offending the Valar. So she did not.

"Soon after she left the Gardens of Lorien, the Trees of Valinor were destroyed by an agent of Melkor. During that time, the world was as dark as my heart as I mourned what could have been. Then when the moon and sun were created, I got word that she had left Valinor for Middle-Earth. I was wise enough to accept that we could not be together and I did not abandon my duty to follow her.

"Ages passed before we met again. It was at the behest of the Valar that I was sent to Middle-Earth with the other Istari. I spent a long time among the peoples of Middle-Earth but through design or fate, I did not see Lady Galadriel until she invited me to join a council of the wise in response to the growing darkness.

"She had done well for herself, fulfilling her desire to rule a realm of her own. And from what I heard, she was a ruler to be admired, although I always knew she had the grace and wisdom to be a great ruler. When I got her invitation I could not refuse it, even though I feared to see her again.

"I had changed much from the Years of the Trees to what you see now, but the years had not changed her. She was as beautiful as ever. I knew she had married again, and even had a daughter, now full grown with children of her own. Our own union was long forgotten to her. But still, when I laid eyes on her, I knew nothing had changed in my heart, and it was as if we were back within the magical Gardens of Lorien.

"She voiced her wish for me to lead the council, but I had to turn it down. For Saruman the White is the first of our order, and it would not have been right for me to assume a mantle above his. And so we became the White Council (in TA 2463). For a long time, we discussed the issues of Middle-Earth and how best to protect it and defend against this oncoming darkness. Unfortunately, although we were a council of the wise, our thoughts differed too greatly, and very little was actually decided. Weary, I left quickly after Sarumon called the meeting to a close. Feeling disheartened at our lack of progress, and overwhelmed by seeing Galadriel again, I did not wish to stay any longer than was necessary.

"Nearly four hundred years passed before the council again met in full (TA 2851). This time it was at my behest. For I had just returned from investigating the ruins of Dol Guldur after sensing a growing darkness within it. What I found there troubled me greatly. A dark lord, calling himself the Necromancer, had taken up residence within the tower but fled before I could discover more of him. All was not a waste, for while exploring the ruins I discovered something else, which I think may have been even more valuable.

"The last dwarf lord to hold one of their seven rings of power, Thrain, son of Thror, had gone missing when travelling near Mirkwood some years earlier. I found him in Dol Guldur, tortured beyond breaking point. Barely clinging to life, he did not know even his own name. Stripped of his ring and left to die, he was twisted from the pain of his body and mind, and beyond my saving. Though I gave him what comfort I could. Before he died, he gave me a map of the Lonely Mountain to give to his son. At the time, I despaired that I would ever fulfil his dying wish, for I did not know who he was, so how could I know his son? But as with many things in this world, fate intervened some years later.

"I took the news of this Necromancer back to the White Council, urging them to hunt him down and destroy him, for I feared what he truly was."

"Sauron," Galadwen whispered under her breath. A chill ran down her back as she remembered her recent meeting with the Dark Lord.

"Yes," Gandalf said, looking up at her in surprise. "You must tell me what you know." There was an urgency in his voice that she had not heard before.

Galadwen nodded in agreement before indicating for him to continue. With a frustrated sigh, Gandalf continued his story.

"I feared that he was Sauron returned, but I did not have any proof that would satisfy the Council. Saruman argued that this dark lord was no threat since he had fled before me and that the Council's time was better spent discussing actual threats, like the orcs that killed Walda, the King of Rohan. But I did have one champion in my corner that day. Lady Galadriel too had sensed the darkness that grew near her borders and wished for it to be removed. Unfortunately, it was not enough to sway Saruman, and we were overruled. Though in gratitude for Lady Galadriel's support, I accepted her invitation to walk with her after the meeting.

"As we walked through the gardens of Rivendell by the light of a full moon, we talked of our fears of this rising darkness. Galadriel too feared that it was Sauron, and she told me of all his deceit and betrayal to the elves and other races of Middle-Earth. It was a grim story, and the more I heard, the more I feared for Middle-Earth. Though she did not say it directly, I could see Galadriel did not believe that we could beat him, for he was more cunning than even Melkor.

"The more she talked, the more I could see that though she glowed with the light of the Eldar, it was only a carefully composed facade. Underneath, she was a torment of pain and suffering. It took a lot of prodding to finally discover the source of her pain. You know of her other daughter, Celebrian, who spent days being tortured at the hands of orcs before she could be rescued. Though her body soon recovered, her mind was not so easily healed. She slipped into darkness and started to fade. It was only in sending her west, across the sea to the Undying Lands, could she be saved.

"I felt Galadriel's pain as if it was my own. Holding her close in an attempt to comfort her, I wished with all my heart for some way to ease her pain. She heard my wish, and she had an answer for me. Another child. At first, I was shocked that she would ask me for such a thing, but she soon explained that it was her greatest desire, but Celeborn refused to have another child. He feared any other children of his would have the same fate as their daughter. It had been a matter of strife between them for many years.

"As soon as I knew what she was asking of me, my first reaction was an absolute no. Celeborn was her husband now. I could not intrude on the life they had built. But Galadriel was quick to correct me that we had been married first, and as far as she was concerned, that marriage was just as valid as her marriage with Celeborn. She still loved me like she had in Valinor, and yet she also loved Celeborn just as equally.

"Like I said earlier, if Galadriel wanted something from me, I could not deny her long. Especially when, glowing in the moonlight, looking like she had in the Gardens of Lorien, she was confessing her undying love for me. A family together was something we had often longingly talked about under the light of Telperion. But due to the secrecy of our union, that had only ever been a vague wish in Valinor, but here in Middle-Earth, she was offering to turn that dream into a reality.

"But what we hadn't reckoned on was the reactions of Saruman and the other elves, particularly those in Lothlorien. It is not forbidden for an Istari to marry, but it is frowned upon. When Saruman discovered that I was married, he called me a weak fool and threatened to throw me out of our order and send me back to Valinor. Fortunately, it was not within his power to do so. Galadriel is the only known elf to have married twice, with both spouses still alive. To take two spouses is not forbidden, as her ancestor, Finwë did it. But it was not looked upon favourably, especially when one of the spouses is an Istari. They did not understand our love, and so chose to ignore our marriage in favour of her marriage with Celeborn. And so, in doing so, they refused to acknowledge you as the legitimate daughter of Lady Galadriel.

"There was a time when I was almost certain that Galadriel would lose her beloved realm. I think if Gil-galad had still been alive, she would have. As it was, with the ring of power and some tactical soothing, she managed to keep her realm. Unfortunately, there was a cost. She could not raise you like she had planned, and I was forbidden to enter Lothlorien unless on official business. Even then, I could not visit or acknowledge you within those borders."

As Gandalf looked mournfully out to the night sky, Galadwen took the opportunity to ask a question. "How did Nestor come to raise me?" she asked.

"She had never approved of Galadwen's desire to have another child. Especially to me. Like the other elves, she thought the union between us should have stayed in the past. I found out later that she had warned Galadriel on what would happen. Being a very unusual elf with her directness, she did not hold back her verbal thrashing when we met. Then when Galadriel realised that she could not raise you, she dissuaded me from taking you with me, saying the road was no place for a child. But Nestor gladly took raising you upon herself, with the promise to keep well informed of your life.

"I can see now that she has done a better job than I ever could. I am proud of who you have become Galadwen," Gandalf said with a warm smile and a tear in his eye.

Galadwen smiled back. "Thank you for telling me," she said. "I have waited many years to hear that story." She found that she could not hate either of her parents for what they had done. Her mother had needed some way to cope with her grief, and her father had only wanted the family he had always dreamed of.


	11. Chapter 11 - The Golden Isle

Chapter 11 - The Golden Isle

Once his tale was finished, Gandalf pressed Galadwen to tell him of what she knew of Sauron. She had no desire to relive her experience in the void nor to confess her weaknesses to the father she had just met. But under Gandalf's stern gaze, she dared not deny him. With the cool dawn light starting to fill the small room, she told Gandalf of her recent experience in the void. He listened closely and asked her many questions afterwards. Not just of Sauron, but also about her gift and the ending of the world with the void. His questions seemed endless.

"Why did you choose to leave Lothlorien now of all times?" he asked while puffing on his pipe.

The sudden change in topic caught her off guard. Galadwen gave a reluctant sigh before finally answering him. "As you know, for some time I suspected you were my father, so I have followed your possible futures more closely than others. I saw that you were going to encourage and help the dwarf Thorin Oakenshield in his quest to reclaim Erebor. I too saw that the halfling would join the party, and on this adventure, he would find a ring of power. I have seen this ring to do great evil in the hands of those who are weak. It brings on the terrible war and destruction that leads to the void faster than ever. With this ring in the wrong hands, we go from having decades of relative peace to only years. Even I have felt the strangeness of the ring when viewing it. I fear it may be one of the nine. But oddly, it does not affect the halfling like it does others. He seems to have a stronger character than his appearance would indicate."

Puffing on his pipe, Gandalf smiled at that.

"While it is in the halfling's keeping, it is nearly ineffective. Except for one trick. It will betray him like it did the creature that was its last master. So in answer to your question, I left Lothlorien to protect this halfling. To keep him safe and ensure the ring stays hidden in his keeping as long as possible. For we need time to find a way to defeat the evil that threatens Middle-Earth, else the destruction of the world will only be a matter of time."

"What have you seen of Thorin's quest?" Gandalf asked.

"Many things," Galadwen replied hesitantly. "It will be successful, in part. He will reach the mountain and find his way inside. But if the dragon is defeated, there will be a large battle on the slopes of Erebor. Many will die. I have seen a great orc host that will defeat any force in its path. Dwarves, men, and elves. None will stand against it and survive. Including Thorin's company and the halfling."

"When?" Gandalf asked with shock.

"The orc host will reach the mountain by the first waning moon of winter."

"Not enough time," Gandalf mumbled to himself.

"Not enough time for what?" Galadwen asked.

"Radagast has gone to inform the White Council of my suspicions regarding the Necromancer. But the White Council will do nothing unless I force the Necromancer to show his true self. Only then will Saruman agree to attack and remove Sauron from his stronghold in Dol Guldur." Gandalf pinched the brow of his nose in frustration. "But then the elves, dwarves, and men must be warned and prepared to face the army that is to come. They must unite and fight together. Only then will there be hope."

"Yes," Galadwen agreed, as she remembered the remote possibility of a small victory. "But many will still die."

Gandalf nodded, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe.

"If you would allow me, perhaps I can help. I can warn the elves of the orc host, as I will be passing through Thranduil's kingdom. But I fear I would be of little assistance with the dwarves and men."

"I think you will find Thranduil no easier to sway than an army of stubborn and prideful dwarves," Gandalf replied. "But nevertheless, I accept your offer. Thranduil is a cold, hard king. Like many elves safe inside their kingdoms, he does not care for anything beyond his borders, and especially not for dwarves. He must be at Erebor when the orc host arrives, but he will not march for the good of Middle-Earth. You must find another way to convince him to gather his forces and march on Erebor. Then warn the people at Laketown. They believe that they are safe from orcs on their lake, but you must convince them otherwise. Unite them with the elves. Then find Bilbo and keep him safe. Leave the mountain before the battle."

Galadwen nodded while wondering if avoiding the battle and therefore surviving would be possible. A small spark of hope ignited in her chest at the thought. But would it be right to do so, when so many others would die? Remembering the realisation she had come to in the void, Galadwen knew she could not save them all. But for the world to have a chance, she must save the halfling even if that meant fleeing from the battle.

With the morning sun now streaming into the room, it seemed as if Gandalf had finally finished asking his questions, so Galadwen took the opportunity to ask him the one question that was still on her mind.

"How did you do it?" Galadwen asked. "How did you bring my body back to life?"

"It was not dead as such," Gandalf replied slowly, as he came out of his own thoughts. "It had simply run out of energy. So I gave you some of mine."

"Mother did the same using the power of Nenya," Galadwen said. "When I was in the void, I saw a ring of fire on your hand that glowed with a brilliant white light."

Gandalf smiled at her then looked at his hands folded in his lap. "Narya," he whispered, and with a flash of red light, Galadwen saw a red ruby set in a gold ring upon his finger. Then it was gone.

"One of the three?" Galadwen asked in amazement. "But how? You are not an elf."

"What we are in this world has nothing to do with the blood that flows through our bodies. It is what is in our hearts and how we treat others, that defines who we are," Gandalf replied. "The ring was given to me by someone who knew what I truly am and foresaw my need for it."

"But how did you know I needed you here?" Galadwen asked.

"When you have been in this world as long as I have, you too may know where you are needed," Gandalf said. "I was in the High Fells of Rhudaur with another of my order, Radagast the Brown, investigating the tombs there when I felt something pulling me south. I sent Radagast to Lothlorien to inform Lady Galadriel and the White Council of my intentions, while I followed my heart here. I did not know it was you who needed me. But I am glad you did, for meeting you has been one of my greatest desires. You bring me such pleasure and I am very much looking forward to getting to know you.." Galadwen smiled at his kinds words and reached out her hand to him. Gandalf held her hand in his and squeezed it tight as if he never wanted to let it go.

Like that they stayed for a time, until, with the help of his staff, Gandalf slowly rose from his stool. From a hook by the doorway, he picked up a grey conical hat with a wide brim and placed it firmly on his head. "Now the morning is getting late and talking is a hungry business. So if you can manage it, would you join me for some breakfast?"

Smiling, Galadwen sent the tree at her back another thought of thanks and followed Gandalf out the doorway and into the new day. As she walked, Galadwen noticed that her body, although not back to its full strength, was surprisingly well rested.

Standing beside Gandalf on the small landing beyond the doorway, Galadwen shaded her eyes against the bright morning sun as she took in the scene before her. Standing about thirty yards above the ground, they looked out over the tops of the dark swampy forest of Gladden Fields. They were in one of a dozen giant poplar trees on a small island in the swamp. Similar huts were built at all different levels on the surrounding poplars. Except, where the other poplar trees were still the green of summer, the leaves on the poplar they stood in were the bright gold of autumn. The tree had given her all its summer life force.

"Thank you, noble tree, for your gift," Galadwen said aloud. "I name you Edhel, and wish you a long life." At her words, Gandalf gave her a strange look but said nothing.

Between the poplar trees and the swampy forest was about fifty yards of dark water, filled with people going about their business on rafts and small row boats. Laughter, shouting, and singing, mixed with the sounds of splashing water could be heard above the ruffling of the poplar leaves moving in the gentle breeze around them. The air was heavy with humidity and the earthy smells of the swamp.

Attached to the branch above them was a small elevating platform hanging from a pulley system, which explained how they had gotten her up the tree. Gandalf had started down a rope ladder that hung from the edge of the platform they were standing on. Galadwen followed him down it, but now that her body was moving, she wanted to stretch her limbs and test her recovered strength.

Reaching the roof of another hut, like the one she had rested in, Galadwen leapt from the ladder. Landing on the branch that formed the ridgeline of the roof, Galadwen ran down it to the trunk, and taking a hold of the large cracks in the bark, she climbed down the tree. Passing Gandalf on the rope ladder, she dropped onto a lower branch before leaping onto a ridgeline branch of another hut. In the trees is where she had grown up. It was where she felt the most at home.

With a large smile, Galadwen quickly climbed and leapt down the tree, landing gracefully on the damp soil at the bottom. There she waited patiently as Gandalf descended the ladder, more nibbly than his frame would suggest. He gave her an amused smile before taking off his hat and leading her through a low doorway into a lean-to house built against the side of the large tree. The smell of baked bread greeted Galadwen as they entered the dwelling. It was dark inside, with only a door and window at either end to give light. The room was stifling hot from the heat coming from a clay oven against one wall. At a long table against the tree trunk stood a short woman of middle years, with golden hair tied in a bun at the nape of her neck. She was kneading dough with the practised movements of someone who had been doing it a long time.

Looking up as they entered, the woman greeted them with a wide smile. "It pleases me no end ta see life in ya limbs," the woman said to Galadwen in a fast dialect of Westron. "I'm truly sorry bout the misunderstandin', m'lady."

Galadwen returned her smile. "No harm was done," she replied in her best Westron. "Thank you for taking care of me. But please, call me Galadwen."

"Of course, of course," the woman said, wiping her hands on her apron before coming over and taking Galadwen's hand. "I'm Ella. I'm honoured ta meet ya. Please take a seat and I'll get ya both somethin' ta eat." She guided Galadwen by the hand to a wooden seat at the far end of the table. Then Ella bustled out of the house calling out "Paige, Eel."

"Your Westron is quite good," Gandalf commented as he took a seat next to her. "Even I struggle to understand Ella."

"I had a good teacher," Galadwen replied with a smile. "I think you would know his name, Toron. He mentioned that he knew you."

"Did he now," Gandalf said, chuckling to himself.

Before Galadwen could ask what was amusing, Ella returned with a large basket of fruit under her arm. She set it down in front of them as a girl, on the cusp of womanhood, came running through the door behind her.

"Paige," Ella said to the girl, who on seeing Galadwen and Gandalf, had stopped running and stared at her feet with embarrassment. "Tell Master Mellor that our guest has awoken and ask for two mugs of his best mead. Then find your brother. I'm still waitin' for the fish he went ta fetch from the markets this mornin'."

"Yes Ma," the girl said, and with another shy glance towards their guests, ran back out the door.

"She's a good girl that," Ella said as she started putting cups and plates out for them. "Quiet like her Da was. A sensible head. Not like her brother. Those two are like chalk and cheese I tell ya. That boy loves ta talk. I'd bet my hat that he's been yakking away with the fisherwomen all mornin'. He could spin a yarn as well as any of 'em."

Galadwen shared a smile with Gandalf as Ella continued talking about her children. She could talk so fast without pausing for a breath, that Galadwen wondered how she did not collapse from lack of air. Ella only stopped talking when Paige came through the door carrying two tankards of mead, closely followed by a younger boy with short blond hair sticking out at all angles, carrying a string of dried fish.

"There ya are," Ella said, taking the tankards from Paige and placing them on the table in front of Galadwen and Gandalf.

"Ma," the boy said. "Ya'll never guess what Sissy told me at the markets. She said that eels swim all the way down ta the sea then back again. She said if ya catch an eel and give it a kiss, it'll bring ya back a pearl from the sea." Paige giggled behind her hand, while Ella frowned at the boy. "But I told her I'm not gonna kiss an eel, I am Eel, so I'll get her a pearl from the sea if she kisses me."

"Eel, ya'll not be swimming down ta the sea," Ella said with a stern look. "And ya'll not be kissing Sissy either."

"I wasn't gonna," the boy said with the same cheeky grin Galadwen had seen in her vision in the void. "She was gonna kiss me."

With an exasperated sigh, Ella took the fish from the boy and handed him an empty pail. "Be a good boy and fill this with water, then ya can have some lunch."

"Yes Ma," said the boy as he spun on his heel and ran out the door.

"Please, eat," Ella said as she put a couple of the dried fish on the table for them with the mead, sliced fruit and vegetables, bread, and a rich smelling hot steaming dish.

Galadwen's stomach grumbled in anticipation. She needed no more encouragement and began on the unfamiliar leafy greens that she had read about in one of Toron's books. They had an unusual peppery taste and went well with the sweet carrots.

The rich smell of the hot dish as Gandalf served himself intrigued Galadwen. Most everyday foods were not cooked in Lothlorien, and never meat, so she had never smelled anything like it before. Seeing Galadwen watch him eat, Gandalf gave her an encouraging nod. Deciding that after facing orcs and wargs, she should not be scared of a little food, Galadwen picked up a spoon and served herself some. The hot, thick stew tasted as good as it smelt. She assumed the small chunks were some type of meat, but having never tasted meat before, she could not be certain.

"What is this?" Galadwen asked Gandalf in Sindarin.

"I am quite sure that I do not want to know," Gandalf replied as he put another spoonful in his mouth.

Dissatisfied with his answer, Galadwen asked Ella.

"Water Rat Stew," Ella replied with a proud smile.

"Yes," Gandalf said under his breath in Sindarin. "I did not want to know." But that knowledge did not stop him putting another spoonful in his mouth.

With encouragement from their mother, Paige joined them for lunch, while Ella continued to knead the dough at the far end of the table. As they ate, Paige would keep shooting Galadwen shy glances from the corner of her eye. When Eel soon returned with the water, there was no shyness about him and he kept them entertained with his stories.

"Did ya know," he said with a mouthful of dried fish and bread. "My real name isn't Eel. That's just what everyone calls me since I swam like an eel ta get away from orcs. Ya wanna hear the story?"

Galadwen nodded as she chewed a mouthful of the soft bread.

"Well," Eel said. "When I was little."

"Last autumn," Ella amended.

"When I was littler," Eel revised with a glance to his mother. "I'd go out fishing with Uncle Jon. He knows where all the biggest fish are. But after we caught a fish or two, we'd go on our secret business. Ya see we had a secret job that he used ta do with his Da before he died. This secret job is passed down from father ta son ya see. For nearly a hundred years. But cos he's only got girls and my Da is dead, he'd take me."

"What was this secret business?" Gandalf asked, eyeing the boy over his spoon.

"Ahhh," said Eel, enjoying the attention. "It was very secret business. Not even Ma knew about it. Uncle Jon said a great wizard had lost his favourite gold ring in the river. The wizard told Uncle Jon's Da's Da that if he found it for him, he'd get a reward of great riches. They made a map of the river and would cross off areas they'd looked. Every once in a while the wizard would stop by ta check their progress and give 'em some gold for their efforts. Uncle Jon said his Da found a jewel in the river once that the wizard paid him richly for. He said that it was set in some strange silver metal and seemed ta reflect the light of the stars, even when none were about."

"Did your Uncle say what this wizard looked like?" Gandalf asked.

"Nah, but I saw him for myself one time," Eel replied. "He was tall. Taller than you. With long white hair and beard. And he wore a white robe. I don't know how he kept it so white. Ma is always tellin' me off for gettin' dirty, even when I haven't been anywhere. I bet he used his magic. I would if I had any, then Ma wouldn't have ta keep tellin' me off." He grinned at his Ma, who was now rolling the dough into buns.

"I'm sure you'd find other things ta do so I could still tell ya off," Ella replied with a fond smile.

"So anyway," Eel continued. "It wasn't a week after the wizard came and we had finally filled all the river on the map with crosses and were going over some of the older spots. We had the boat tied up in the river and Uncle Jon was diving under it. It was my job ta keep an eye on things and make sure the boat didn't float away. But that day I really needed ta, ya know," he said gesturing oddly.

Galadwen frowned at Eel, then looked at Gandalf for clarification, but he seemed just as confused on what the boy meant.

"I needed ta," the boy started to say, shifting uncomfortably with embarrassment. "I needed ta drop the brown logs in the river," he finally said in a rush. Gandalf chuckled at this, but Galadwen just frowned at him, still not comprehending. "I didn't wanna do it on Uncle Jon's head, so I jumped outta the boat and swam to shore. So here I was, squatting over the river bank when two massive orcs jumped out. It scared the crap out of me," Eel said with a snigger.

Gandalf chortled, Galadwen raised her eyebrows in surprise and Ella scolded her son for his foul language.

Looking abashed but please with himself, Eel continued his story. "So one of them grabbed me you see. He had huge hands, with long bony fingers and dirty claws for nails. But I was still slippery wet so I slipped out of his hold, only ta be caught in a bear hold by the other orc. I didn't like being that close ta him cos he smelt rotten. The first orc was growling at me in some foul language as he came at me with a knife in his ugly hands. I didn't want ta wait around ta see what he was gonna do with the knife so I wiggled with all my might in the smelly orc's arms. Until suddenly I went plop and slipped out the bottom of his arms. The orc with the knife came at me, but quick as a rat, I jumped in the lake. Everyone knows orcs aren't great swimmers, so once I reached Uncle Jon's boat, I knew I was safe.

"But you'll never believe it, Uncle Jon was so busy diving he didn't even know the orcs had nearly got me. Once he saw them on the bank, he stopped diving and we rowed away. But that wasn't the end of the orcs. Oh no, they followed us along the bank, keeping up with the boat. I was scared that we wouldn't ever be able ta get ta shore again. But Uncle Jon, he's a smart man and he had a plan.

"We lowered the anchor rock and Uncle Jon got back in the river to do some more diving. While he was at it, I lay down as if I was tired see, leaving just my hat showing over the gunnel of the boat. Then when Uncle Jon gave the say so, I slipped overboard without the orcs knowing. Then we dived underwater, and holding our breaths until I thought I was gonna burst, we swam with the eels through the river grass downstream. It was a sad thing to leave Uncle Jon's boat. But Uncle Jon said it was worth it ta get away safe. And imagine how long those orcs would have sat there watching the empty boat!"

Galadwen smiled in amusement as Eel finished his tale with a proud grin.

"What happened with the wizard?" Gandalf asked.

"Oh, we had ta stop looking for the ring then. Uncle Jon had ta explain ta Ma why he didn't have a boat no more, and she wasn't too happy when he told her about the orcs. Said we had ta cut that nonsense and not put our lives in danger looking for a good for nothin' wizard's ring. And we never saw the wizard again."

Gandalf frowned as he nodded thoughtfully to himself. He took out his pipe and started packing it.

"Mr Gandalf," Ella said. "You'll not be smoking in here. Please take that outside so the smoke doesn't ruin the dough."

Gandalf looked at her in surprise, then with a huff, snatched up his hat and walked out.

Galadwen looked on in amusement. These people obviously didn't know who Gandalf was. He was just another old traveller to them, and he did nothing to correct that view. She stood, and thanking Ella for the delicious meal, she followed him out.

Gandalf was sitting on a large stump overlooking the busy waterway, thoughtfully puffing on his pipe. Galadwen quietly took a seat beside him. She peacefully watched the locals aptly go about their business on all manner of watercraft. An old man with weathered skin, sitting in a hollowed out log, lazily paddled past them, with the slow but deliberate strokes of one who had spent his life on the water. Behind him came a young man on the back of a raft that was piled high with straw. He used a long pole to slowly push his raft forward. He called out to two women chatting merrily in a rowing boat stacked high with fish traps. They called back before continuing to row in the opposite direction. There were fisher men and women returning with the mornings catch, some whistling as they went. A group of women and children sat on a long barge like raft with baskets in their laps, while armed men pushed them through the water, and into the swampy forest beyond.

Galadwen found it fascinating to watch these people go about their daily lives. Mortal lives that were so short. So much noise and activity. More action than she was used to seeing in Lothlorien. These people lived in a dangerous place during uncertain times, but they had adapted and life still went on. She was not sure if elves would be able to adapt as easily.

Gandalf interrupted her thoughts with his own grumblings in Westron. "He's very prideful. I have always known that. And he has always craved more power. Yes, but not just craved it, he has been acquiring it. He thinks I do not know, but I have seen through his omissions and half-truths. And now, he is looking for the ring. Surely he cannot mean to use it. He must know it only answers to one master. To wield it would be terrible indeed. No, I cannot believe it. We were brought here to protect against the darkness. I don't believe he could have strayed so far from our mission. For he is our leader, the wisest of us. The one chosen to guide us."

"You talk of Saruman?" Galadwen asked in Sindarin, interrupting his thoughts. Gandalf looked at her in surprise, seeming to only just realise that she was sitting next to him.

"Yes," Gandalf said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "What do you know about him?"

"Nothing for certain," Galadwen replied. "I know he is powerful. His power and influence stretch across the far reaches of Middle-Earth. I believe that he desires even greater power to defeat Sauron. But I fear what that power could do to him. I have seen many futures where he will betray you and your order."

Puffing thoughtfully on his pipe, Gandalf turned back to stare out across the water. When he finally finished his pipe, he carefully put it away and turned back to Galadwen.

"I wish we had more time," Gandalf said, taking one of her hands in his. "But the fate of Middle-Earth is in our hands. I must leave for Dol Guldur at once."

Remembering some of Gandalf's possible futures, Galadwen suddenly feared for him. "But you cannot go alone," she said, squeezing his hand in earnest. "Sauron has the power to destroy you. I have seen it. Please," she begged. "I cannot lose you after only just finding you."

He replied with a warm smile. "We are both immortals Galadwen. You cannot lose me. If something happens to me, we will still see each other again in Valinor. I do not fear death, and neither should you. For death is only the end of one journey and the beginning of another."

"I have seen my death enough times to know that it is inevitable. I do not fear it. I only fear my own failure."

"That is good," Gandalf said with a sad smile. "So hear me now, I will not fail you. For I will not be alone. Galadriel and the White Council will come to my aid. It is never a goodbye, only a see you later."

Perhaps it was being amongst these people who wore their heart on their sleeve, or perhaps it was being away from the confines of elven society, but Galadwen surprised even herself as she threw her arms around Gandalf in a tight hold. She could not dispel the grin of pure happiness on her face as Gandalf's arms embraced her.

"I love you, my strong and courageous daughter," Gandalf said as he held her close.

"I love you too Adar," Galadwen replied, trying and failing to hold back the tears.

After a long moment that felt all too short to Galadwen, Gandalf pulled back and stood up. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he looked into her emerald eyes sparkling with tears of happiness. "I have no right to ask anything of you Galadwen," he said. "But please, let your body recover for another day, even two, before you continue your journey. You will need all your strength for the challenges ahead."

"Yes Adar," Galadwen replied.

Gandalf smiled again, then leaned down and laid a tender kiss on Galadwen's forehead. "I will see you again on the slopes of Erebor."

Galadwen watched him walk away through a vision blurred with tears. Fifty yards down the shoreline was a small jetty. Gandalf approached the man perched on a post at the end of the jetty, and after a short discussion, they both climbed into a canoe and soon disappeared between the trees of the swampy forest.

Galadwen sat on that stump for a while, staring where Gandalf had disappeared from her view. That was until a presence caught her attention. Paige was standing half a dozen yards from the stump, shyly watching her. Galadwen gave her a warm smile and motioned for Paige to join her on the stump. With a small smile, Paige ran over to the stump, then hesitantly sat next to Galadwen.

Elven children in Lothlorien were few and far between so Galadwen had no experience with children. She found herself at a loss for what to say to her. So they sat in silence for a while, watching the water.

"I saw ya climbin' down our tree," Paige finally said in a whisper, as if she was sharing a great secret.

"Yes," Galadwen replied with a smile. "I like to climb trees. But is it not something you do here?"

"Ma used ta say children shouldn't climb trees cos they're likely ta fall and hurt themselves," Paige replied in a quiet voice. "I love climbin' trees so I used ta climb them anyway. But now she says young women shouldn't climb trees cos it's not the done thing for a respectable woman."

Galadwen thought about that for a moment before replying. "I have a special connection to trees. The ones I grew up with were my friends and I would talk to them daily. They would listen and answer me. Because of that, I knew that when I was in a tree, I was safe."

"Ya talk ta trees and they answer?" Paige asked with a sceptic tone.

"Oh yes," Galadwen replied. "The trees in Lothlorien were awake, and they would move and grow when you sing to them. The trees here are asleep still, but I could try to wake them up if you would like?"

Paige nodded slowly. There was an eagerness in her eyes, but her face still showed scepticism.

"Well I need to get to know all the trees first, so would you like to be my guide around the island?"

Paige nodded more eagerly this time. They stood, and Galadwen followed Paige back to the golden-leaved tree.

"This is our tree," Paige said proudly.

"Do you have a name for it?" Galadwen asked.

"We name the trees after the family that lives in 'em. This is called Captain's Tree, after Da. They tried ta call it Baker's Tree after Da died, but Ma wasn't havin' any of it. So now the new Captain's tree is called New Captain's Tree."

Galadwen placed her palm on the tree. "Hello, Captain's Tree. Thank you for keeping Paige and her family safe, and thank you again for the gift you gave me."

"What'd the tree give ya?" Paige asked.

"Some of its energy," Galadwen replied. "When Gandalf woke me up, I was very weak, so the tree gave me its summer energy. That's why its leaves went all yellow before the other trees."

Paige gazed up the tree trunk to the golden leaves above in amazement. "How?" she asked. "Can I learn?"

"I talked to it," Galadwen said simply. "And yes, you can learn. You just put your hand on the tree and say hello. A tree can be your best friend. You can tell it your secrets and all the best stories. Trees are great listeners. It may take a long time for the tree to reply, but if you talk to it enough, it will."

Paige put her hand on the trunk beside Galadwen's. "Hello Captain's Tree," Paige whispered to it. "Thanks for keepin' me safe. And thanks for keepin' Ma and Eel safe too. Thanks for keepin' Ma's wheat dry. And thanks for not catchin' fire last winter when I forgot about the candle."

Once she was done, Paige looked to Galadwen for approval.

"The tree was listening," Galadwen said with a warm smile. "Shall we go say hello to the other trees?"

Paige nodded, and lead Galadwen around the island.

"This is Chandlery Tree," Paige said as they approached another tall poplar. At the base of it was another lean-to, except the entrance to this one was stacked high with boxes of all sorts and sizes. Galadwen laid her hand upon the tree trunk and sent it a greeting, and smiled as Paige did the same. As they talked to the tree, a broad-chested a man, walking with a heavy limp, approached them. He took Galadwen's hand in both of his own.

"From the bottom of my heart, I thank ya for saving my wife and daughter," the man said, squeezing her hand gratefully.

Galadwen felt her heart swell with the sincerity of the man's words. "It was my pleasure," she replied with a warm smile.

With embarrassment turning his face red, he bowed over Galadwen's hand before quickly shuffling back into the lean-to.

"That's Eddy," Paige whispered to her. "Durin' an orc attach a couple of years ago, his eldest son was killed and Eddy got an axe in the leg. Left him with the limp. Ma said he was lucky ta survive."

"Do the orcs attack often?" Galadwen asked her.

"Didn't use ta. But they've been happenin' more and more. Yours was the third this summer. And winter is usually worse."

Galadwen nodded thoughtfully as Paige continued showing her the trees around the island.

With as many trees as they greeted, more people approached them to give Galadwen their thanks. Most held her hand in theirs as they thanked her. One old fisherwoman, with tears streaming down her face, gave Galadwen a hug, much to Galadwen's surprise. When the fisherwoman left, Galadwen looked to Paige, who like all the previous times, told her of the person who had just left.

"That's Joan, Sissy's Gran'ma," Paige said in her quiet voice. "Long ago, before I was born, her daughters were captured by orcs." Paige shivered before she continued in her matter of fact voice. "Her husband and two of her sons died when they went after them. Joan forbade her youngest son, Sissy's Da, ta go after them. So he grew up and married Sissy's Ma. But then she died giving birth ta Sissy's little brother. And last year Sissy's Da died protecting some farmers from orcs. So now Joan's only got Sissy and her brother."

"So many people are dying," Galadwen said. For every person that had given Galadwen their thanks, Paige had told her of at least a couple of people they had lost to orcs. "Is there nothing that can be done?"

"They're tryin'," Paige said. "After ya killed all those orcs, Master Mellor declared that any woman who wishes ta learn will be trained ta fight. But we don't have many good warriors left ta teach us."

Galadwen walked in thoughtful silence as they approached another tree. This tree had a large building all around the base of the tree. The round building centred on the tree trunk, with small windows dotted around the exterior wall. Over the front door was a painted sign showing honeycomb dripping into a beer glass.

"This is Master Mellor's Tree," Paige said. "He tried ta get people to call it Master Mellor's Mead Tree, but everyone calls it Tavern Tree."

Galadwen followed Paige through the low door. Although it was still early, nearly a dozen people sat at the dimly lit tables lining the outside wall. The conversations hushed as Galadwen entered and all eyes turned to her. Behind the bar against the tree trunk stood a large man with a rotund middle. Polishing the bar with a cloth, he smiled at Galadwen.

"Welcome ta Master Mellor's Mead House," the man said in a loud booming voice. "I'm ya honoured host, Master Mellor. Please, won't ya take a seat." He came around the bar and indicated that they follow him. "Ya're just in time for the start of tonight's entertainment. My daughter Lilly has the most beautiful voice," he said proudly as he directed them to a seat against the wall, opposite a small stage.

"If you could be so kind," Galadwen replied, "we would like to sit next to your impressive tree."

"Of course," Master Mellor said, indicating they take a small table against the tree trunk next to the stage.

Galadwen sat on the wooden bench, polished smooth by years of use. With Galadwen seated, the other patrons returned to their own conversations. As Master Mellor bustled away to attend to the requests of another patron, Galadwen placed her palm on the trunk and sent the tree a greeting. Sitting across the table from her, Paige mirrored Galadwen's movements, sending the tree her own greeting. Galadwen smiled at the girl's earnestness.

With a frown at the other patrons, Paige leaned forward and whispered to Galadwen. "Not everyone copes well with loss. Ma says there is comfort for some at the bottom of a flagon, but those who do nothing but drink are no better than the dead cos they're dead inside. People here," Paige said, indicating the people sitting at the tables, "are dead inside."

Galadwen looked at the other patrons more closely. Some were dressed in relatively tidy clothes, others in barely more than rags. But all of them had an unkempt look, with dirt stains and messy hair. What really hit Galadwen hard was the same distant look in every eye. The haunted look of those who had given up on life. They had no desire to fight, no hope. Their only comfort was their drunk comrades of loss sitting with them, sharing their misery. Galadwen felt her chest tighten with their pain. She had not had an easy childhood, but at least she had not lost anyone she loved, and until recently she had been safe. These people had not been so fortunate. Her heart went out to them. Galadwen had never seen an elf fade, but she suspected this was the human equivalent. She wished there was something she could do to help.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sweet voice that filled the tavern. On the stage next to them now stood a young girl with sandy hair in plaited pigtails. Her clear voice hushed the patrons as she sang a mournful song. Galadwen struggled to follow all the words, but from what she could understand, the song was a lament to those who died before their time. It was a simple song compared to the elven ones Galadwen knew, but it was sung with such pure emotion by a girl who should not know such feelings that Galadwen could not help but be moved. When the final pure note sounded, there was not a dry eye in the house. The sounds of men and women crying openly filled the following silence.

Then Master Mellor bustled over and with a frown, whispered something in the girl's ear. She nodded before starting to sing an upbeat jig. She sang well but it sounded almost flat to Galadwen when compared to the strong emotions of the previous song.

Master Mellor returned to their table with a jug of mead for Galadwen and a small pint of something for Paige.

"That's my Lilly," Master Mellor said with pride towards the girl singing on the stage. "Beautiful voice doesn't she? Best voice on the island, so everyone says."

"Yes, beautiful indeed," Galadwen replied. "That last song-"

"A favourite of our regulars, but not one fit for a guest such as ya'self," Master Mellor said.

"It was beautiful," Galadwen insisted.

"Oh," Master Mellor said, taken aback. "Well then," he said and bustled away.

Galadwen smiled as Paige giggled. "He's not used ta bein' told he's wrong," Paige said with another giggle.

As Lilly started her fourth song, Master Mellor returned to their table with two bowls of stew and a plate of buns that Galadwen recognised as Ella's handy work.

"Thank you, Master Mellor," Galadwen said as he placed the food in front of her. "But I have no money to pay you for this."

"Don't fear m'lady, ya got half the island offering ta pay your bill," Master Mellor said with a grin. "So ya'll be eatin' and drinkin' well tonight."

Galadwen looked around the tavern that had been slowly filling up with men and women, and she wondered how she could thank these people for their kindness and generosity. Killing a few orcs hardly felt like a fair trade for the warm welcome she had received.

The rich steaming food reminded Galadwen how hungry she was. Her recovering body demanded a huge amount of sustenance. With her mouth watering at the delicious smell, she tore a piece of bread off and dipped it in the thick, creamy stew. It was different to Ella's stew but no less appetizing.

When Galadwen had taken her first mouthful, Paige eagerly dug into her own bowl.

"This is Misses Mellor's famous Trout Soup," Paige said between mouthfuls. "Everyone says how good it is, but Ma would never buy us any."

"And what do you think?" Galadwen asked her.

"It's really good," Paige gushed before putting another mouthful of soup-soaked bread into her mouth. "But I think Ma's bread makes it better."

"I agree," Galadwen said, which made Paige grin.

As they ate, Lilly finished another song and was replaced on the stage by an old man playing a small twangy string instrument and a younger woman with a flute. Their instruments produced a strange but complementary sound when they played. Taking turns singing popular folk songs, they were heartily applauded at the end of each.

Galadwen finished her first bowl of stew, and other soon replaced it, then a third. It was all washed down with a handful more jugs of the golden mead. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, feeling it's life force flow through her, Galadwen felt quite content as she listened to the music and watched the people crowding the tavern. Paige sat opposite her, leaning against the trunk like Galadwen, and every now and then would whisper to Galadwen some story or details about people she would spot in the tavern. Like all her previous stories, loss of loved ones was the main theme. And yet somehow these people continued living their lives to the fullest, laughing and joking with friends over a drink after a long days work. But not all. Galadwen remembered the vacant stares of those that had been in the tavern all day. She could still pick them out amongst the crowd, with their unkempt look and the smiles that did not reach their dead eyes.

A loud bell went off, and there was a sudden frenzy as the patrons rushed about. Galadwen gave Paige a questioning look.

"The last call for drinks," she said in her usual quiet voice. If it wasn't for Galadwen's keen elven hearing, she would not have been able to hear Paige over the noise in the tavern. "Misses Mellor makes Master Mellor close at the same time every night. Ma says it's her one condition for agreeing ta marry him."

The man and women playing on stage, played a final song then followed by a hearty applause from the crowd, went to the bar for a drink. With the music stopped, some of the patrons started to file out. The haunted eyes of a man sitting nearby as he stared into his final glass of the day touched Galadwen deeply. So with a boldness enhanced by a dozen jugs of mead, Galadwen rose from her seat and took to the stage. The tavern instantly went silent as all eyes turned towards her, filling her stomach with butterflies and tightening her throat. But for those haunted eyes, now looking her way, Galadwen opened her mouth and started to sing.

She sang in Quenya of Nienna, the Valier of Mourning. The song, taught to her by Nestor, was not of endless grief, but of hope and continuing on when all seems lost. She sang of the death of the Lamps by Melkor and the subsequent destruction of the land. Nienna mourned the lamps, but hope was not lost. Yavanna sang into existence the two trees Laurelin and Telperion. Watered with the tears of Nienna's grief, the trees grew into mighty sources of light. The world rejoiced and all basked in the light of the two trees. All except Melkor, who with the assistance of Ungoliant, a giant spider-like creature, destroyed the two trees.

Again Yavanna sang and Nienna wept for the destruction of the trees. And still hope was not lost, for with the power of their grief, a final silver flower emerged from Telperion and a single golden fruit from Laurelin. These were given to Tilion and Arien to be carried into the heavens to become the Moon and the Sun, lighting the whole world for all to enjoy. So from the death and destruction, grief and hope have the power to create something more beautiful than what had been before, only if we have the heart to continue on when all seems lost. Singing the last words of hope and determination, Galadwen felt her own heart renewed with hope for her quest and the future of Middle Earth.

As the last note echoed around the walls and silence settled over the tavern, Galadwen thought that perhaps she had made a mistake by singing in a language they did not know. But as she looked around the room, she saw every eye fixed to her with mixtures of wonder, hope, and determination on their faces. The man who had sat near her with the empty eyes now stared at her with tears streaming down his face. There was a determined set to his jaw and a spark of hope in his eyes. Galadwen smiled and took a bow. The spell of silence broke as people started to clap. The applause grew to a thunderous racket of stomping, cheering and whistling as Galadwen returned to her seat.


	12. Chapter 12 - Gladden Fields

**Chapter 12 - Gladden Fields**

When the Tavern was nearly empty, Galadwen followed Paige out into the cool night. After another large meal and the life force gifted by the Tavern Tree, Galadwen was starting to feel new again.

"I gotta go home, Ma will be startin' ta worry 'bout me," Paige said.

"Of course," Galadwen replied. "I'll walk with you."

As they walked, Galadwen was suddenly aware of something missing. It was the lack of weight on her shoulders. "Do you know where my cloak and weapons are?" she asked Paige.

"Yeah, Ma put them away somewhere safe. You're not leavin' are ya?" Paige asked, stopping with a start. Wide worried eyes stared up at Galadwen.

"I will have to leave soon, but not tonight," Galadwen said, bending down to the girl's height. "Tonight I only wish for my cloak so I can sleep under the stars."

"Oh," Paige said, looking a little relieved. "But what 'bout the trees?"

"At dawn, I will try to awaken them if you care to watch."

Paige grinned at her. "Yeah, I would like ta very much. Come on," Paige said, holding her hand out to Galadwen.

With a smile, Galadwen placed her hand in Paige's and they continued into the dark night.

Back at Captain's Tree, Galadwen retrieved her cloak and weapons from Ella, who was not impressed with Paige returning home so late. Slipping out the door, Ella's scolding followed Galadwen into the night as she made her way across the island. She approached Netter's Tree, the home of Joan. Galadwen knocked on the wooden frame of the small hut at the base of the tree and entered at Joan's impatient call.

"Oh m'lady," exclaimed Joan, jumping out of her seat by the fire at the sight of Galadwen in her doorway. "What brings ya here ta my tree?"

"I apologise for disturbing you Joan," Galadwen replied. "I wanted to ask if I could sleep in your tree tonight."

"Course ya can. I'd be honoured. Ya can take my bed in the first room."

"Thank you, but that is not necessary," Galadwen replied. "I wish to sleep under the stars on one of the highest branches."

Joan looked at her in disbelief before finally nodding. "Ya can sleep on any branch that takes ya fancy. Would ya like somethin' ta drink before ya retire?"

"Thank you, Joan, but no," Galadwen replied. "I have a busy night of dreaming ahead." With a final nod of thanks, Galadwen ducked out the doorway and after adjusting her weapons, she started to climb the thick trunk of the tree.

The poplar, like all the others on the island, was small compared to the mallorn trees of Lothlorien. But with a trunk five yards across, it was larger than any other trees Galadwen had seen outside her home forest. It's rough bark made scaling the trunk easy. Reaching the top room, Galadwen climbed up another few branches until she found one that looked comfortable. Taking her weapons off, Galadwen sat on the branch and placed them across her lap. Pulling her hood up, she leaned against the trunk and wrapped her Lorien cloak around her.

Nestled against the tree, Galadwen gazed out through the foliage to the horizon beyond. With the moon not yet risen, the stars shone brightly. Their familiarity eased her mind, but at the same time gave her a longing for home. A longing for Nestor, Laeroneth and surprisingly, Toron. She tried not to think of the fact that she would not see them again, for those thoughts would only lead her to sadness. So with a determined sigh, she pushed thoughts of home from her mind, closed her eyes and looked to the future.

First, she checked on the halfling and his dwarven companions. They were currently asleep in the Mirkwood forest. Studying their familiar futures, Galadwen confirmed that they would spend some time trudging through the forest, but even that was not without danger. She only hoped they would all make it to the relative safety of the Elvenking's custody without injury or worse.

With the object of her quest still on the expected course, Galadwen looked to the future of the villagers of the Golden Isle. From what Paige had told her of the increased orc attacks, she worried over the village's future. Galadwen saw that the next orc attack was in a couple of days' time. Just a small group. But there would be many more small groups of orcs that would continuously harass the villagers this winter. Orcs from the Misty Mountains by the look of them. There would be no reprieve from the attacks as the seasons changed. Many more orcs would come, and not just from the west. They would roam the land freely and attack any who left the safety of the Golden Isle. By the end of the following winter, there would not be a village left. Those few survivors would flee south down the river.

Galadwen watched the many and often gruesome deaths of the villagers with the detachment of one who has seen so much death. But during one future she saw Paige captured by orcs. The torture, mutilation, and rape that followed shook Galadwen to her core. She had seen similar images before in her many searches through the future. She had even seen it happening to herself. But when she watched what they would do to the kind, intelligent, and curious girl, she could not stop the horror from filling her.

The last time Galadwen had felt such horror at what she had seen, it was that very first time. Back when she still had the relative innocence of childhood. After a night in the top reaches of Laeroneth, learning the stories of the stars from Nestor, Galadwen remembered collapsing happily into her bedroll, a smile upon her face as she drifted off to sleep. Somewhere in that deep sleep, she slipped into the future. It was not the organised paths that she could see and study now. Instead, she was immersed in the horrifying future of a human boy. His face was an agonising red of burnt skin as he screamed. By the light of burning buildings, he was being pulled through the dark night by a woman. Holding his had in one of hers, she had another child in her other arm. The boy tripped, falling hard to the ground, he put out his spare hand to stop his fall and screamed anew as the charred remains of his hand made contact with the stony ground. The woman turned around, eyes wide with fear and desperation, she hauled the boy back to his feet. But before they could continue fleeing, behind the woman, a looming figure emerged from the darkness. Galadwen shouted a warning, but they did not hear her. The glint of a blade flashed in the light of the fires and the heads of the woman and child fell to the ground. As the bodies followed, the boy's screams intensified. Galadwen reached out to grab the boy, but her hand simply passed through his arm, as if it was no more solid than smoke. She could do nothing more than stare in horror as the dark figure stepped over the bodies and thrust his sword into the belly of the boy. His screaming stopped then. The figure pulled the sword out of the boy and casually pushed him aside. As the boy toppled to the ground, horrified, Galadwen watched the figure stalked past her. She looked back to the boy, his mouth open in a silent scream, the wide eyes in his burnt face slowly glazed over, and to Galadwen, everything went dark. That had been the first of many terrifying dreams that night until finally, she had awoken screaming in the arms of Nestor.

Unlike that first night, her horror quickly turned into a burning rage. These monsters were a plague on Middle Earth and must be stopped before they destroyed everything that was good.

As much as Galadwen wished to run off and fight orcs, she knew that if an elven army could be defeated by them, she alone would not stand a chance of doing any real good. So reigning in her rage, Galadwen looked again to her quest. The halfling and the dwarves would hopefully end up in the safekeeping of the Elvenking's dungeons. There was little chance of escape and some time before they had to be at the Lonely Mountain. She could spare a few days to help the villagers prepare before she left. But Galadwen was unsure of what she could do to help these people. She was no expert on orcs or fighting them. A month ago she knew less about fighting and surviving outside of Lothlorien than a child. Eel knew more than she had. In the last month, there was a lot she had learned, and perhaps she could pass on some of that knowledge to any of the villagers willing to listen, but deep down, she knew it would not be enough. With a heart heavy with worry, Galadwen awoke to the nearing dawn.

Opening her eyes, Galadwen looked beyond her misting breath to the grey dawn sky. The last of the night stars still glittered above, and not a breath of air stirred the now golden poplar leaves surrounding her. Mist steamed off the black water, hiding the forest swamp in a sea of fog. In the distance, a blackbird issued one long musical note. Then, as if heralded by the blackbird, other birds began to sign their dawn songs. Each bird's individual song combined into a beautiful dawn symphony. The sound of the birds brought some pleasure to Galadwen's heavy heart. She still worried for the people of the Golden Isle. With only a few days to spare, Galadwen feared she would not be able to help them. She would not be able to save Paige.

Remembering her promise to the girl, Galadwen sent the poplar tree a thought of thanks and with renewed strength, jumped to her feet. After securing her weapons, she nimbly descended the tree.

Galadwen found Paige huddled at the foot of the Captains Tree, her breath steaming out from under the hood of a heavy cloak. When the girl saw Galadwen, a smile burst across her face as she ran up to the elf.

"Ya came!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know if ya would."

"Of course I did," Galadwen replied with a warm smile. "Now come, I will try to awaken the trees from the centre of the island."

Galadwen took Paige's hand in her own, and they walked quickly through the misty morning towards the heart of the island. Picking a dry spot under the New Captains Tree, Galadwen removed her weapons before taking a seat on the mossy earth and leaning against the tree trunk. She raised a hand to the trunk and greeted the tree as Paige sat beside her and did the same. Closing her eyes to focus on the tree, Galadwen could feel it's life force flowing under her hand.

Then with a deep breath, Galadwen began to sing the same song of awakening that she had sung to the Black Ash. Her voice sounded strange, even to her own ears, as it travelled through the mist over the island.

Singing of each of the Valar, a thought came to Galadwen's mind as she sang of mighty Yavanna, the Lady of the Earth. One of the stories sung of Yavanna told how she created a forest that was awake. The trees within it could think and feel. But Yavanna feared this forest would be destroyed by Dwarves so asked Eru to protect it from those that would do it harm. And so Ents were created. One of Nestor's songs said that over the years, the trees became more sentient while the Ents became more tree-like. The trees grew in strength, protecting those who lived peacefully within it but destroyed any with black hearts who only knew destruction. Galadwen did not have the power of Eru to create Ents, but it seemed that she had been blessed with the power of Yavanna. The village was surrounded by the forest of Gladden Fields, but to awaken it Galadwen would need all of Yavanna's blessing and perhaps more strength than she possessed.

Looking inward, Galadwen was surprised at how quickly she had healed. Perhaps she would be strong enough. Carefully drawing on her life force, Galadwen focused the energy into her voice. She could feel the life force projecting her song, beyond the island and dark waters around it, and far into the swampy forests of Gladden Fields. As she sang, Galadwen could feel the song draining her. Yet she continued, even as the world around her dimmed to her senses. As the song of creation came to an end, Galadwen started a song of blessings for Yavanna.

Galadwen could feel her life force being drained, and a sudden fear of entering the void to face Malkor's apprentice filled her. But the memory of Paige being tortured kept her singing. While she had strength left, she would do all in her power to prevent that happening. So she continued to sing as her life force was diminished, until finally, with the closing note of her song, Galadwen collapsed against the tree with a weary sigh.

In the eerily still silence that followed, the dawn sun broke over the horizon and lit the mist in a golden glow. Then starting with the poplar at Galadwen's back, the trees began to shake their leaves in the still morning. The noise of rustling leaves continued to build like an oncoming storm until it was so loud it filled even Galadwen's deaden ears. Then almost instantly, the noise stopped and the trees were still once more. Before another eerie silence could settle on the island, the birds restarted their songs of welcoming the new dawn.

With her eyes closed, Galadwen let herself smile as she felt the awakened presence of the New Captain's Tree at her back. She sent it a thought of greeting and thanks as she felt the tree's life force sustain her own nearly depleted reserves.

"Paige," Galadwen whispered. Her voice that had carried the song for miles now struggled to carry but a few feet.

"Yeah, m'lady," Paige replied as she carefully took Galadwen's hand. Galadwen felt the girl's concern in her gesture and wondered if she looked as frail as she felt.

"Can you please ask the leader of your village to come speak with me," Galadwen whispered.

"We don't have no leader, not since Lord Reyol died and his wife and daughters floated down the river after him," Paige said. "Master Mellor thinks he's our mayor but no one listens ta him. They listen ta the Captain though."

"Then please ask the Captain if he would come speak to me," Galadwen whispered. "Then if you would be so kind, I could do with some breakfast."

"Yeah," Paige replied with a gentle squeeze of her hand. "I will m'lady." And then she was gone.

Barely half a dozen laboured breaths later, Galadwen heard the hurried footsteps and excited murmurs of many people approaching around the trunk of the New Captain's Tree. They stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of the elf looking so pale at the foot of the tree. With an effort, Galadwen opened her eyes as a tall and well built young man approached. Galadwen thought he had barely seen twenty winters, but his deep brown eyes told of knowledge beyond his years.

"Captain?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yeah, m'lady," he replied in a deep soft voice. "Ya asked for me? That was ya singin' we all heard?"

"Yes," she whispered as her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. She could force them back open to look into his worried face. "I have awoken the trees of Gladden Fields. As long as you wish to call this forest home, treat them with respect, and they will protect you from the agents of darkness."

"I don't understand m'lady," he replied.

Galadwen could feel the life force of the tree flowing into her, giving her body enough strength to stay conscious. "Burn only dead wood. Cut living trees only when you have to. Care for them, and thank them for their service. In exchange, they will fight with you to destroy any orcs or creatures of darkness who dare step foot within the forest."

As she spoke, Galadwen saw the frown on his face deepen. "But how?" he asked.

Galadwen's eyes fluttered closed again as she gave only a slight head movement at his question. "Rest," was all she could say.

Galadwen felt the warm rough skin of his hands around hers. "We'll talk later," he said. Then after a moment's pause, he released her hands, stood and lead the group of villagers away.

Having expended all of her energy and some of the tree's in her effort to protect the village, Galadwen turned her thoughts inwards. At the rate the tree was giving her its life force, it would use up all its summer energy before the day was though. As she sent it another thought of thanks, Galadwen could feel the trees thoughts as it marvelled at all that it was.

Galadwen opened her eyes at the sound of Paige's return. In her arms, she carried a heavy looking basket, and she was not alone. Eel followed close behind, carefully carrying a jug of mead in each hand.

"I told Ma ya weren't well and she said ta bring as much food as I could carry," Paige said as she set the heavy basket down beside Galadwen.

"I helped," Eel said, carefully putting the two jugs of mead down next to the basket.

"Thank you, the both of you," Galadwen said. She lifted her arm that felt as heavy as a tree trunk and pulled back the cloth on the basket. Inside was a feast. Fresh steaming buns, dried fish, strawberries, blackberries, water cabbage, and a whole pile of leafy greens. Galadwen lifted a bun from the basket, but her arm lost its strength before she could get it to her mouth. Her hand fell to her lap and the bun rolled out of her fingers. Galadwen closed her eyes with a frustrated sigh.

"Let me," Paige offered. Galadwen opened her eyes again to see Paige offering a bun to her mouth, a concerned frown on the girl's face.

"Thank you," Galadwen said before taking a bite of the offered bun. Inside the crusty exterior, it was light and fluffy, and still warm from the oven. The energy required to eat was almost too much for Galadwen, but Paige's patience seemed eternal as she helped Galadwen, one slow bite at a time. Eel watched on, keeping them entertained with his endless advice, commentary, and stories. And so the morning passed, the three of them huddled at the base of the New Captain's Tree, while the rest of the island was abuzz with the news of Galadwen's gift.

It was afternoon by the time Galadwen finally finished all the food Paige and Eel had brought her. The life force from the tree had slowed, and looking up, Galadwen could see the leaves had already turned golden. She could feel her body improved by the food and the gifted energy from the tree. Enough so that she felt strong enough to walk.

"This tree has given me enough," Galadwen said to the children. "Would you help me walk to the next tree?"

Paige and Eel eagerly helped her to her feet, and while Paige offered Galadwen support, Eel proudly carried her weapons. Galadwen could feel the girl struggling under her weight, but she hadn't the strength to ease Paige's burden. Fortunately, it was no more than twenty yards to the next tree.

"Thank you," Galadwen said as she transferred her weight from Paige to the tree trunk. "I will rest here a while."

"We can getchya more food," Eel offered as he gave Galadwen back her weapons.

"Thank you, but no,' Galadwen replied. "I have eaten enough for now. But I expect your Ma could do with some help."

"Fetchin' things for Ma's no fun," Eel complained. "I wanna help ya."

"You would be helping me if you helped your Ma," Galadwen argued. "I've eaten a lot of her bread today, and I'm sure I will eat a lot more before I am recovered. So fetching things like water for your Ma would help her to make more bread for me."

Eel sighed.

"Come on Eel," Paige said, taking him by the hand and trying to lead him away. "She wants ta rest, and can't do that with ya constantly yakkin' in her ear. Besides, we've chores that still need doin'."

Eel turned back to look at Galadwen. "We'll see ya later?" he asked pensively.

Galadwen nodded with an encouraging smile. Satisfied, Eel let Paige lead him away.

As soon as the two children were out of sight, Galadwen gracelessly slid down the tree trunk, collapsing in a heap at the bottom. Exhausted, this is where she stayed.

In a meditative state, Galadwen passed the rest of the day talking silently to the tree while it gifted her its life force. Now the tree was awake, it was less of a one-way conversation. As she told it stories, Galadwen could feel the tree's emotions reacting to them. It enjoyed her elven tales, but she got a stronger reaction with any mention of the villagers. So Galadwen told the tree of all she knew of the people who occupied this island. She told the tree of the villagers she had met, what she knew of their daily lives, and the dangers they faced with the orcs.

When Galadwen opened her eyes at the sound of the Captain's approaching footsteps, the shadows of the trees had grown with the passing of the day. A dappled golden light of the setting sun now shone across her face as she looked up at the Captain. Standing erect, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and an unruly mass of dark hair falling to his shoulders, he had quite an imposing presence as he towered over her. But the look in his eyes and the frown between his heavy brows told of an intelligent and thoughtful man.

"M'lady," the Captain said as he studied her. "I see ya lookin' more alive than this mornin'."

"Yes Captain," Galadwen said with a respectful nod of her head. "We have not been formally introduced. I am Galadwen of the elven realm Lothlorien. I apologise for not rising to greet you properly, but I find I am still weary."

"Not ta worry m'lady, we're not big on fancy manners here. Captain Bray, son of Brack, of the Golden Isle, at ya service, m'lady," he said with a small bow. Galadwen smiled at his manners, as courteous as an elf. "Do ya have a moment ta talk?" he asked.

"Of course," Galadwen replied. "Please sit, and I will answer your questions as best I can."

Captain Bray crouched down as he continued to study her. A silence settled between them. Galadwen waited for him to speak.

"Ya have caused quite a stir m'lady," he finally said. "I've had reports from all who've braved ta venture in ta the forest t'day. There's no doubt that things aren't right. The forest's changed. I've had reports of a branch the size of a man's leg movin' of its own accord, of roots movin' underfoot trippin' men up, and of unnatural sounds. Groans, whispers, and rustlin', that don't belong ta any animal. The bravest men I know, men who've spent their whole lives roamin' about the forest, are now scared ta leave the island."

Galadwen could feel the accusation in the Captain's eyes. "Change is scary," she replied. "But without change, the village will be gone before the end of next winter. There is a growing darkness in this world that threatens to swallow all life. The orc attacks will only get bolder and more frequent. I have seen there are not enough capable fighters to protect the village. You would not have lasted long. But now, you may have a chance at survival."

"How long'll we survive when everyone's too afraid ta enter the forest?" Captain Bray asked with frustration. "It sustains us. We hunt in it, we fish in it, and we farm on the edges of it. If we can't enter it, we'll starve before winter's out."

"Let me take you and any who are willing into the forest. I will show you that there is nothing to be afraid of."

The Captain looked at the ground, shifting uncomfortably. "Ya will not find many willin' ta go," he said quietly. "People fear ya just as much as the forest, m'lady. They say ya brought an evil ta our lands. And only servants of the darkness can bring evil."

Galadwen could feel her heart sink at his words. Her time in the void with the Dark Lord flashed through her mind. We are alike, he had told her. Galadwen dismissed that thought from her mind, but with less conviction than she had felt earlier. Doubt lingered like a bad smell.

"Will you come with me?" Galadwen asked with uncertainty.

"Yeah," he replied firmly, finally looking her in the eyes again. "And I'll do what I can ta persuade others ta come also."

Galadwen breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said. "We can go tomorrow at dawn."

"Aye," he replied with a nod. "It'll be arranged."

The Captain stood and looked around him. They were in shadow now, but the setting sun lit the leaves of the poplar trees around them. Some still the green of summer and others glowed bright gold.

"Do ya have somewhere ta sleep t'night?" he asked.

"I will find another tree to spend the night against," Galadwen replied.

"Begging ya pardon m'lady, but I don't think that'd be wise," the Captain said, scratching the stubble on his chin. "Ta be out in the open that is."

"The island is safe from orcs," Galadwen replied with certainty.

"That may be, but it's not orcs that concern me," Captain Bray said. "The villagers are afraid. When they're afraid, they drink ta hide their fear. And a group of drunk men can do things under the cover of night that they'll regret come mornin'."

Galadwen's eyes grew wide in surprise. She did not know men were capable of being one thing during the day and another thing at night. Galadwen knew that in her weakened state, she would be no match for even untrained men.

"Don't fear m'lady, my kid sister has heard all about ya from Eel and Paige," he said with a reassuring smile. "She and Ma will take ya in for the night. Come, I'll introduce ya."

Galadwen grasped the Captain's offered hand and he gently pulled her to her feet. As Galadwen slung her weapons over her shoulder she was happy to note that although her legs were weak, they were steady. With a nod to the Captain, she followed him into the growing twilight.

As twilight changed into night, the Captain led her in a wide berth around the Tavern Tree. It was a beacon of light and noise in the growing dark. Offering a sense of safety, the villagers swarmed to it, like moths to a flame. Captain Bray was on high alert, eyes continuously scanning the dark. He often stopped, hiding them in the darker shadows of a tree as villagers passed. Galadwen shifted with unease and kept close to the Captain. On the far side of the island, they finally approached a poplar tree with a smaller lean-to than most. Galadwen could see the Captain relax as he knocked on the low door frame before ducking and entering. Following close behind, Galadwen entered the small lean-to.

The first thing Galadwen noticed as her eyes adjusted to the light was the smell of a hot fish stew. At a small cook fire on the outer wall of the lean-to, a young woman was crouched, tending to a stew pot over the flames. Behind her sat an old frail woman, hunched in a rocking chair, leaning over a fishing net laid across her lap. More nets hung from the walls behind her. Galadwen froze in surprise when the frail woman looked up as they entered. An old ugly scar crossed the woman's face from her right cheek, across a flattened nose, over a hollow socket where her left eye should have been, and ended above her left eyebrow. With the light from the cook fire casting flickering shadows across her face, it made for a frightful sight. That was until she smiled. It didn't make her face any less ugly, if anything, the tightening of the scar made it look frightful. But the warmth that filled her only eye at the sight of her son made all her other features disappear into the background.

"Ma," the Captain said, raising his right hand and placing it over his heart. "Let me introduce Galadwen of Lothlorien."

The woman's eye moved to Galadwen, and the smile returned, as warm as it had been for her son. "Welcome, m'lady," the woman said.

"Galadwen," Captain Bray said. "This is my Ma, Tulla, and this is my kid sister Misha."

Galadwen gave them both a small bow. "Thank you for opening your home to me," she said.

"Of course m'lady," Tulla said. "We all know men're afraid of change, but not us women. We know change well. So when the weak men let fear take control of 'em, we'll keep our good sense."

"Ma," Captain Bray said with a sigh.

"Oh not all men," Tulla replied with another smile for her son. "But that's what marks the difference between a great man and all the rest. And you, my Bray, are a great man."

The captain approached Tulla, bent down and kissed her forehead. "I think most Ma's say the same of their sons," he said. "But before we argue further, I need ta return ta patrol."

"But won't ya at least stay for supper?" Misha asked, looking up from her pot.

"Not t'night, Misha," he said with a small shake of his head. "Those frightened men need someone ta watch over 'em. Make sure they don't do anythin' stupid. We can ill afford ta lose men by banishment."

"Very true," Tulla said. "Be safe Bray."

"As always, Ma," Bray replied with another kiss on her forehead. Then with a loving smile for his sister and a nod for Galadwen, he ducked out of the lean-to.

Galadwen watched him leave, then looked around her, unsure on what to do.

"Come closer m'lady," Tulla said. "Let me get a good look at ya. My old eyes aren't what they used ta be. Only seem ta work half as well."

The woman seemed to be waiting expectantly, so Galadwen approached her.

"No laugh?" Tulla asked. "Not even a smile." Galadwen kept the frown from her face as she tried to understand what this woman was expecting of her. "The problem with losin' an eye is that I'm half as likely ta see it again," Tulla said with a wink. Galadwen just stared at her.

"Still nothin'," Tulla said with a disappointed sigh. "I take it elves aren't big on humour?" she asked.

"Ma," Misha said from her spot by the fire. "No one is big on ya humour. Not even the fish."

"That's not true," Tulla protested. "Black flounder get my humour. They know what it's like ta only see the world from one side. That's what makes me such a good fisherwoman, they jump in ta my net ta show their appreciation."

"Are ya sure ya not just scarin' 'em in ta ya net with that so-called sense of humour?" Misha asked.

"I don't know," Tulla mused as she rubbed at the scar on her cheek. "I've never asked them."

Misha just rolled her eyes before turning back to her stew.

Tulla smiled at her daughter's reaction before turning her attention back to Galadwen. "Now m'lady, a little closer if ya please. I promise I won't bite."

Galadwen approached Tulla and knelt down beside her creaking rocking chair. Up close, the scar dominating Tulla's face looked more horrendous than it had from a distance. A patchwork of pink and white scar tissue, pulling and stretching at her facial features, distorting them in unnatural ways. Tulla studied her with her remaining eye while Galadwen tried not to stare at the scar.

"Paige was right," Tulla finally said. "There's no darkness in ya m'lady."

"How can you be so sure?" Galadwen asked her.

"Because ya aren't," Tulla replied. "Darkness grows fastest in those who're absolutely convinced they know what's best for themselves and for the good of all. But I see the doubt in ya eyes. Ya are unsure, and so ya question ya-self. As long as ya continue ta question ya actions, darkness'll struggle ta grow."

Galadwen frowned at Tulla. Her words sounded wise, and she wanted to believe her, but if what she had learned of men was correct, this woman was nearly half Galadwen's age. How could someone so young be wise?

"But that's not saying darkness won't grow," Tulla continued. "For just as disease can take even the healthiest of men, darkness can corrupt even the purest."

"Ma," Misha protested. "That's enough talk of disease and darkness." She approached them with a steaming bowl of stew. "Eat ya supper and give our guest some peace."

Tulla took the offered bowl from her daughter with a grin. "My Ma used to warn me that one day I'd have children that'd boss me around in old age as I did her. Oh, how pleased I am that she was right, and how much I hope the same for ya, Misha."

"Oh Ma," Misha replied with a fond smile for her mother. "Please take a seat m'lady," she said gesturing to a three-legged stool next to the tree trunk.

Galadwen sat on the offered stool and Misha handed her a bowl of stew before taking a seat with her own steaming bowl. A contented silence filled the small lean-to, broken only by the crackle of the fire, as Galadwen and the two women enjoyed the rich fish stew. Galadwen gratefully took a second and a third helping of stew while the two women continued with their evening routine in comfortable silence. Tulla knotted her net while Misha stripped long fibres off reeds, then broke those down further until they were fine enough to be used for netting. Galadwen leaned back into the tree trunk, and after sending it a silent thought of greeting, she let her eyes drift closed. Listening to the quiet rhythmic sounds of the women work, Galadwen could feel the life force of the tree start to flow into her.

"M'lady," Misha said, "I'll be goin' up ta bed now. Ma will be sleepin' down here so the first room up is spare for ya. Or if ya prefer, I'll make up another cot for ya down here with Ma."

"I'll sleep down here, but there is no need for a cot. The dry earth against the trunk here will do nicely," Galadwen replied with a warm smile.

Misha shrugged. "As ya wish. Ya can bar the door behind me, and as long as ya don't open it until mornin', ya'll be safe enough."

"Not that anyone would disturb me," Tulla said.

"Most of the men are nearly as afraid of Ma as they are of ya," Misha confirmed with a grin. "She likes ta think it's the scar and missing eye, but it's really her sharp tongue that scares 'em."

"I'd give 'em a what for," Tulla agreed.

Misha gave her Ma a kiss then left after showing Galadwen how to bar the door behind her.

After baring the door, Galadwen settled herself against the tree truck while Tulla climbed into her cot. The reassuring feeling of the bark against Galadwen's back and the familiar feeling of the life force that flowed through her from the tree was nearly as comforting as Nestor's singing. With a homesick sigh, Galadwen closed her eyes and entered her dreaming.

Galadwen opened her eyes and jumped at the sight of Tulla's face hovering over her. Galadwen felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she remembered what, or rather who, she had been dreaming of.

After looking to her quest, then at the village's future, Galadwen had indulged herself by watching the blonde elf. It was different from how she watched others in the future, always looking for clues or ways to help or save. But with him, she watched for her own pleasure. She watched the way his mouth quirked and his eyes sparkled in constant amusement. His big smile that was never far from his lips filled her with warmth. Galadwen knew it was not right, she felt like a predator stalking her prey, but yet she still could not help herself. He was the balm that eased her fears and calmed her soul.

"Sorry, m'lady, I know my face isn't the nicest thing ta wake up ta. I've been tryin' ta wake ya for a while. It's mornin' m'lady," Tulla said. "Bray is waitin' for ya at the jetty on the other side of the island with our village's bravest."

Galadwen jumped to her feet, nearly knocking Tulla over. "I should not keep them waiting."

"Nonsense m'lady," Tulla replied. "They can wait a while longer. When the men see how many woman and children are willin' ta go in ta the forest with ya, pride 'ill beat fear and they'll be comin' too. So just wait and have somethin' ta eat."

Tulla handed Galadwen a bowl of last night's stew before directing her to the stool. "Ya can walk me over when ya done," Tulla added.

"You are coming too?" Galadwen asked in surprise.

"I wouldn't miss it for even a king trout," Tulla replied. "Now eat up."

Galadwen did as she was told, and ate her bowl of stew as quickly as good manners allowed. Soon she was walking across the island with Tulla's firm grip on her arm. The old woman had implied that she needed to be guided so she wouldn't trip, but as her steady strides seemed far from faltering, Galadwen suspected she had an ulterior motive. Those suspicions grew as the people they passed all stopped their work to watch Galadwen and Tulla.

"Pay them no mind," Tulla said quietly as they walked. "Oh, what a stir ya have made," she said with a grin and wink. "The pot needs ta be stirred now and then."

Galadwen frowned as she wondered if this was more of Tulla's humour that she did not understand. But she didn't have time to dwell on it, as just then the jetty came into view. Well, Galadwen couldn't actually see it for all the villagers waiting there. At the sight of Galadwen, Paige and Eel came running up to her with the abandon of the innocent, followed by Bray at a more dignified pace. Galadwen could see the excitement bubbling out of them, and it brought a smile to her face.

"Ya will never believe it," Eel said to her as soon as he was close enough for her to hear. "I had night terrors last night, but that ain't new. I've had 'em every night since the strawberry field. But this time, when I woke up, I could feel the tree swaying. A gentle sway, tellin' me I was safe. Our tree rocked me back ta sleep, just like what Ma used ta do when I was little."

"Like she did two days ago," Paige said with a grin.

"I am glad," Galadwen said with a warm smile for Eel.

"Will the forest be like that?" Eel asked her.

"I hope so," Galadwen replied uncertainly as she remembered her dreaming. There was a chance that it could go terribly wrong and all Bray's fears would come true. But there was also a chance that the forest would protect the villagers as she hoped. Galadwen adjusted her weapons nervously. So much of the villagers' futures would depend on today. She had seen what had to be done, but there was only so much that she could do. The rest depended on the villagers.

"Well we'll see soon enough," Bray said with a smile that did not reach the tightness in his eyes. He was nervous, and Galadwen knew that he had good reason to be. Bray gestured for Galadwen to follow him, as he led the way through the crowd of people to the jetty.

There were canoes, rafts, and boats of all descriptions tied up to the jetty, five or six deep. Misha was standing on the end of the jetty and greeted Galadwen with a warm smile.

"If it pleases ya, m'lady, I'll take ya in ta the forest in my canoe," Misha said.

Galadwen returned her warm smile and nodded agreement. Misha turned, and with the grace and balance of someone far more confident on the water than Galadwen, she stepped across the bobbing boats to a canoe tied to the edge of the floating island of vessels. Galadwen followed slowly, trying not to rock the boats. These people saw her as an elf, but she was all too aware that she was only half elf. And not the graceful half, unless she used her life force. But with her strength not yet recovered, Galadwen resisted the urge to draw on it for the sake of her pride. Stepping from a raft into the canoe, the little boat tipped and slipped away from her. If not for Misha's quick weight shift and firm grip as she pulled Galadwen onboard, it would have been an embarrassing, not to mention cold and wet trip into the forest.

With Galadwen seated at the bow of the canoe and Misha at the stern, Bray seated himself in the centre. People were now swarming the jetty as they boarded their own vessels. The boats rocked with all the movement, causing water to splash up between them. Galadwen's fingers gripped the edge of the canoe as it forcefully bobbed about with the island of vessels. Slower than Galadwen liked, but faster than she could have done herself, Misha untied the canoe and pushed them off into the calm dark water.

In no time at all, the group of villagers were on the water, with not one of them having taken an unwanted dip, despite all the commotion. With a nod from Bray, Misha picked up her paddle and started them towards the forest. They crossed the wide expanse of dark water and entered one of the narrow channels that wound through the Gladden Fields.

As the trees closed in around them, Galadwen reached out a hand and touched a passing branch. She could feel it's consciousness as she sent it a thought of greeting. Galadwen could feel uncertainty coming from the tree but it was out of her reach before she could ease its concerns. There was a tension in the forest that was almost suffocating to Galadwen. The villagers seemed to sense it too, as the excited group and gone eerily quiet. No one stirred. The only sound was that of paddles gently moving through the water.

Galadwen reached out to touch another branch as they passed. She sent it a greeting of peace and could almost see the tree relax. The forest only needed some reassurance. It's conscious was new, it was only just discovering what it was, and did not know if these people were friend or foe. The forest was wary. Talking to each tree as they passed was helping, but it would take many moons to talk to every tree in the forest. But Galadwen knew of another way to talk to the trees. She started to sing of family and friendship, of working together in peace and harmony, of depending on each other. Galadwen dared not use her life force to project her voice, so it did not carry far from the canoe. But she sang until her mouth was dry and her notes were no longer clear and true.

As Galadwen's voice failed, another silence fell on the procession of villagers floating through Gladden Fields. Galadwen could feel the tension building again in both the forest and villagers alike. She waited, holding her breath, hoping. Then from the middle of the silent procession, a rich voice rang out clear and loud.

"Oh ho ya trees we call home,

Tall and mighty ya stand strong,

Better than a tower of stone,

On the Golden Isle."

"Ma," said Bray with a proud smile, before he too started to sing. By the third verse, every one of the villagers in their procession was singing. Galadwen could feel the forest listening as she continued to touch the overhanging branches they passed. When the song finished, there was only a brief pause before someone else started up a song about catching a king trout in the shade of the forest. As they sang, Galadwen smiled when she noticed that some of the children started to reach out and touch the trees as she did. By the time the procession finished their third song, many of the adults were doing the same.

The sun was overhead when at the close of the sixth song, Misha pulled the canoe up to a bank. She jumped out and tied it to a tree root sticking out of the mud. Bray got out and Galadwen accepted his offered hand as she followed him. The procession of boats of all descriptions swarmed around the canoe and the muddy bank. Each tying onto the other before the villagers nimbly climbed over the vessels to reach land.

As she watched in amazement, Galadwen felt Bray's large hand on her arm.

"I'm goin' ta check if Wheat Field is safe," Bray said, scratching his chin. "I'm not too proud ta ask for backup from a woman, if ya willin'."

"Of course," Galadwen replied with a smile. Bray nodded and led her into the forest.

As they followed a track, Galadwen took her bow in hand and checked the string. It was looking a little worn. Galadwen mentally chided herself. She would need to take better care of it.

"I owe ya an apology," Bray said as he rubbed the back of his neck. "And a debt of gratitude. I think ya were right. This forest'll help us."

"Your concerns were valid," Galadwen replied, "But tomorrow we will see how well the forest will help."

"What'd ya mean?" Bray asked.

"Orcs will attack tomorrow," Galadwen said with certainty. "Although I don't know this forest so I cannot say where, I do know there will be nearly a dozen orcs."

Bray stopped and stared at her. Shock filled his face as his hand tightened on his sword hilt. "How?" he asked. "How'd ya know this?"

Galadwen could see the fear in his eyes and realised that perhaps telling him was not the correct course. Just because Toron had been so understanding did not mean that others would be. But it was too late now, she had to tell him. "I can see the future," Galadwen said simply. "It is not easy to make sense of, but that is how I knew the village would not survive to next winter unless I did something. I have seen that orcs will attack some of your village women tomorrow. Fisherwomen I think, but I am not sure."

Bray stared at her from under a lowered brow. "It's believed that only servants of darkness can tell fortunes," Bray said as he continued to stare at her. His eyes were searching her face for something. Galadwen didn't know if he saw what he was looking for, but after a moment he seemed to relax. "But a servant of darkness wouldn't help us, and despite what many say, I believe ya want ta help." Bray gave a weary sigh. "So I believe ya. But unless ya want ta cause more trouble, keep ya fortune tellin' to ya-self."

Bray waited for her nod of affirmation before he turned and continued along the track. Following close behind, Galadwen could see the light of a clearing up ahead. Sure enough, they soon stepped out of the dim forest into the bright midday sun. They stood on the edge of a golden wheat field, rimmed by the dark forest.

"This path," Bray said as he pointed out the faint markings of a track that intersected the well-worn one they had followed. "It goes 'round Wheat Field. Follow it that way, and keep an eye out for signs of orcs. They've ambushed us here once before. We'll meet on the far side."

Galadwen did as he asked, and set out along the track. It followed the edge of the forest, keeping in the shade of the trees. She did not know what signs of orcs Bray was talking about, Galadwen only hoped that she would know the signs if she saw them. Galadwen saw signs of many things, the scratchings of birds, tracks of small rodents, diggings and scat from rabbits, but nothing that seemed out of place. Knowing the limits in her tracking knowledge, Galadwen referred to the trees. Walking from tree trunk to tree trunk along the path, Galadwen greeted the tree and asked for any news of orcs. When finally she made it around to the far side of the clearing, Bray was standing there with a scowl shadowing his face.

"Was anythin' wrong?" he asked gruffly.

"No," Galadwen replied as she approached him. "I saw no sign of orcs, and the trees had no news of them."

"Hmph," he replied, then started striding across the field through the golden knee-high wheat.

Galadwen hurried to catch up. "Is something the matter?" she asked.

"I don't know what ta make of ya," he replied with a sigh. "Ya are strange, ya can do strange things, and ya have made our forest strange. I know ya say ya tryin' ta help, and I believe that ya are tryin'. But I don't see how any of this'll help."

"You will see tomorrow," Galadwen replied.

"Yeah, t'morrow. Ya say there is going ta be an orc attack, so I can't rightly let anyone go about their business t'morrow. But if I don't, they'll ask why, and I can't rightly tell them that you've seen their future or your life'll be on my hands. Ya got me stuck in an eddy and I don't know if I should let it pull me down or take ya offered branch and pull ya in with me."

"Do not worry yourself over my safety," Galadwen said. "I will leave after I have seen everyone is safe from the attack tomorrow."

"Leave?" Bray asked with another frown. "But ya can't be well enough ta travel yet."

"I am not, but by tomorrow I should be," Galadwen replied.

"Where are ya going?"

"To continue my journey to the elven kingdom in Mirkwood."

"But it's not safe," Bray protested. "Ya can't travel so far alone."

Galadwen felt relieved when the sound of loud singing interrupted their conversation. The procession of villagers emerged from the forest, gayly singing another fishing song. As the song finished, the villagers fanned out into the field. They sat in small groups, with only heads showing above the golden wheat. Eel came running up to Galadwen.

"Will ya eat with us?" he asked her eagerly. Galadwen agreed and as Eel took her hand, she let herself be led away. Looking back, she saw Bray frowning after her.

Eel lead her to a spot on the edge of the field, where Paige, a girl and boy about Eel's age and three old fisherwomen were sitting, spreading food out between them. Galadwen quickly recognised one of the fisherwomen as Joan.

"This's Sissy, Dill, Joan, Sara, and Gran'ma Tilly," Eel said, pointing to each of the group in turn. "And this here is Galadwen, she's an elf, and my friend."

"Mine too," Paige added.

"Won't ya sit and join us," said Gran'ma Tilly. Galadwen did as invited. It felt nice to be so included. Eel and Sissy entertained them all with stories while they ate. The younger children soon ran off into the field to play. Paige sat with the women a little longer, before the delighted yells of the other children drew her off as well. Galadwen sat with the three old fisherwomen, talking with them while they watched the children play. A warm glow of pleasure filled Galadwen. At that moment she felt alive, happy, and content.

 _AN: I apologise for the year-long wait for this chapter. Apparently renovating and having a baby don't leave much time or energy for writing._

 _A huge thank you to Aerinia and A Deathless Song for your kind reviews!_


	13. Chapter 13 - The Fisherwomen

**Chapter 13 - The Fisherwomen**

The villagers had wholeheartedly accepted the responsibility of singing to the forest. Galadwen walked amoungst the procession of villagers as they returned to their boats. Tulla had joined the three old fisherwomen honour guard, keeping Galadwen in their midst while they walked along the forest path.

"Ya can sleep in my tree t'night if ya wish," invited Tilly.

"And mine t'morrow night," Sara said.

"Thank you," Galadwen replied. "But I can only stay one more night. I will leave tomorrow after I have ensured the village is safe."

"How'll ya know if the village is safe?" Sara asked.

Galadwen hesitated, remembering her promise to Bray. "I can't say," she replied.

"And why's that?" Tulla asked, her eye sparkling with curiosity.

"The Captain asked that I tell no one else," Galadwen replied.

"Is that so," Tulla mused. "I'm sure he said it's for ya own safety too?"

Galadwen nodded.

"Well ya in no danger from us old fisherwomen," Tulla replied. "So come on, spit it out or I'll go wring it outta my dear son."

Galadwen hesitated. All four of the old women closed in around her, while Tulla fixed Galadwen with her one eye. She could see a stubborn determination in that eye. Tulla would find out one way or another. Galadwen started to wonder if perhaps there was a leader, or leaders, of the villagers after all. Leaders that didn't lead from the front with strength and power, but leaders that worked away in the background, giving a small push here, a shove there, and when the situation required, a command disguised as motherly advice.

Galadwen relented and in a hushed voice masked by the singing around them, she told the fisherwomen of her gift and all she knew of the impending orc attack.

"I see why he told ya not to speak of it," Joan said as they approached the fishing boats tied to the bank. The front of the singing procession had already started to board their boats. Galadwen looked at each of the women closely for signs of fear or mistrust towards her. But there was none. All she could see was a slightly distant look on each of the old fisherwomen's' faces as they thought hard on what she had said.

"Aye," Tulla said in agreement with Joan. "Who're the attacked fisherwomen? Any of 'em us?"

"I saw Tilly and possibly the rest of you, but I would need to check to be sure," Galadwen replied. "There were more than four fisherwomen though."

"Aye, of course," Tulla agreed. "I think we need a Netters' Natter t'night."

The other women nodded solemnly in agreement.

"My tree'll give shelter," Tilly said.

"Alright," Tulla replied. "Ya'll keep Galadwen 'til then?"

"Aye," Tilly agreed.

"We'll circle the net," Joan said, indicating herself and Sara.

"And I'll have a chat with my son," Tulla said.

A final look was shared and the group split up as they too started to board.

Tilly took Galadwen's arm. "Ya'll come with me once we're back at the jetty," she said before squeezing her arm and following the other women onto the boats.

Galadwen stood there in amazement as the rest of the procession filed past her onto the boats. In less time than three breaths, the four women had organised what sounded like a gathering of old fisherwomen but what she suspected was actually a meeting of the village leaders.

In no time at all, Galadwen, Bray, and Misha were the only ones left standing on the bank, watching the singing island of vessels split up and start to drift back the way they had come.

"There's somethin' different 'bout 'em," Bray said of the retreating procession.

"Aye," Misha agreed. "It's hope." Bray gave her a questioning look, so Misha elaborated. "No one'd speak of it, but everyone knew we were barely survivin'. Galadwen's given us hope and already they're livin' instead of survivin'."

"Beggin' ya pardon m'lady," Bray said to Galadwen, "but we don't even know what ya did ta the forest'll help protect us."

"It doesn't matter," Misha said as she climbed into her canoe. "A hungry fish'll eat whatever fly it sees." Misha held out her hand to Galadwen and helped seat her in the canoe. "They've felt the forest come alive so they believe in Galadwen. They now have hope for the future, and that's no small thing."

Galadwen felt her heart soar at Misha's words. Even if tomorrow was not a success, she had still given the villagers something to hold on to. Grumbling under his breath, Bray climbed into the canoe. Misha untied them and followed in the lively wake of the procession.

Galadwen's feet had barely touched solid ground again before Tilly had Galadwen by the arm and was leading her off through the cheerful crowd of people still milling around the jetty. She heard Bray call after her. Galadwen turned to see Tulla taking him by the arm much as Tilly had done to her, and led the Captain off in another direction. The old fisherwomen were taking charge.

Tilly was a tall willowy woman with shrewd eyes in a face grooved with laughter lines. She had Galadwen's elbow in an iron grip as she led her out of the crowd while cheerfully chattering away to her.

"Those two little minnows can't talk of anythin' else but ya," Tilly said. "Not that Ella's any better. She'll be tellin' any who'll listen 'bout how ya saved her son 'til her dying breath. May that be long after I'm gone. Now we'll stop by and say hello before we head ta my tree. She'll be wantin' to hear all 'bout this mornin'. She works hard, Ella does, providin' for those little minnows. They couldn't ask for a better Ma. But just between us, I didn't always think so. She used ta be such a dreamer. Pretty, aye, but a dreamer. I didn't think she'd be a good match for my son, but he was hooked and determined ta catch her. And despite my attempts to sway him, catch her he did. Not that I'm complaining now. As I said, those two little minnows couldn't ask for a better Ma."

Galadwen politely listened to Tilly's constant talking all the way to the Captain's Tree. Tilly didn't release her arm until Galadwen was seated at Ella's table with a bowl of hot stew and steaming buns in front of her. She ate the offered food and listened to Tilly tell Ella about the morning's events, with many exclamations from the latter. Before Tilly could finish, Paige and Eel came running inside with their own versions to tell. More food was put on the table as the family shared in the wonders of recent events. With Tilly, Ella and Eel almost talking on top of each other, Paige soon gave up the battle to be heard and sat quietly next to Galadwen.

To Galadwen's delight, Paige reached out and fondly touched the rough bark of the tree. She did not know what the girl said to the tree, but she could feel the tree's joyful response.

"The tree heard you," Galadwen whispered to her. "It is happy that you talked to it."

Paige beamed with pleasure, then sighed. "I wish I could hear it," she said.

"You will," Galadwen said. "Just keep talking and listening. One day you will be a fine tree talker. Then you can show others how to talk to the trees."

"Ya are leavin' soon aren't ya?" she said, looking up with big solemn eyes.

"Yes," Galadwen replied, surprised at the sudden change in subject.

"People who start talkin' 'bout their hopes for other people soon leave downriver," Paige said with a mournful sigh.

"I am not going downriver. I am going upriver," Galadwen replied.

"But ya not comin' back are ya?" Paige asked.

"I would like to, but I do not think I will be able to."

Paige just nodded solemnly.

"I need to leave tomorrow," Galadwen continued. "Would you like to see me off?"

"Aye," Paige said with a sad smile.

Galadwen returned her smile, and to her own surprise, reached out and wrapped the girl in a warm embrace.

Leaving the Captain's Tree lean-to with Tilly, Galadwen stopped dead at the sight before her. The setting sun had turned the sky to the deep colour of blood. The red light reflected off Tilly's face and gave Galadwen a sense of foreboding. She had allowed herself to be distracted by the simple joys of living, but now she remembered. Tomorrow the orcs would attack the old fisherwomen.

"I see ya worry m'lady," Tilly said. "But whatever happens t'morrow, we do it of our own choice. Ya have helped us enough but we aren't ya responsibility. T'morrow ya will leave as ya planned ta no matter what happens."

Under Tilly's unyielding stare, Galadwen nodded.

Her tree neighboured the Captain's Tree, and Tilly was soon bustling Galadwen into the dark lean-to. In short order, Tilly brought the dying embers in her hearth to life and had a kettle heating in the heart of the fire.

There was a knock at the door and a frail-looking fisherwoman hobbled in, followed by Joan. Joan seated the older woman by the fire, and Tilly soon put a mug of tea in their hands. More women arrived, most in pairs. The older women were given the few stools, while the rest stood or sat on the dry earth floor. Everyone had a mug of tea to sip while they talked quietly in small groups. Galadwen found a quiet corner in the shadows to watch.

Tulla came bustling in the door. She was puffing as if she'd been running, or at least walking very quickly. Her remaining eye scanned the room, counting heads. Then with a nod to Tilly, the door was barred. With the soft thud of the door being barred, the room hushed to an expectant silence.

"Thank ya for comin'," Tulla said as she took a place in the centre of the room. "We're here 'cause our elf friend who's already saved us once before has foreseen that there'll be many more orc attacks in the future."

"Anyone with their eyes open can see that," one of the sitting older fisherwomen injected.

"True, even those with only one eye can" Tulla agreed. "But Galadwen has seen that there'll be an attack t'morrow." Mumblings and the sounds of people shifting uncomfortably filled the small lean-to. Galadwen stepped back into the darker shadow, shrugging her cloak around herself with unease.

Tulla raised her hands for silence. "I know ya'll have questions and concerns. We don't have time ta go through them all now. But let it be known that myself, Tilly, Joan, and Sara have talked with Galadwen and we believe her. I ask that that be enough for ya'll for now." There were only a few mumbles of unease after she had spoken for Galadwen. "We know that there'll be two scores of 'em and they'll attack t'morrow. Galadwen has done more than save us once. She's enlisted the forest ta protect us. These orcs'll be stopped by the forest, but we need bait to ensure they're all trapped. So in short, I need volunteers to join me as bait."

This time when she had finished speaking, the silence was so complete, Galadwen thought every woman in the small lean-to must have been holding her breath. Galadwen knew that she was.

"I'll join ya," Tilly said. It was the pebble that started the landslide. With almost a roar, every other fisherwoman in the lean-to loudly called out on top of one another that she too would volunteer.

After a moment, Tulla raised her hands again for silence. "Thank ya'll," she said, her scarred face twisting into a beaming smile that encompassed the whole room. "I expected no less. But we don't need everyone, and you must be able ta retreat quickly. So our wisest fishers will have to sit this one out."

"Fish guts I will," protested one of the sitting older fisherwomen. "I can't run, but I can still out paddle any of ya."

And so started a discussion on who would go and who would stay. When they had finally reached a consensus, the women rearranged themselves into two groups. The first group comprised of those that were involved in the trap. They started to discuss details like where and how the bait would wait, and how the retreat would go. Before Tulla asked Galadwen to join the first group, she overheard the second group of fisherwomen discuss how they would keep the rest of the village safe during the attack.

Referring to Galadwen's knowledge now and then, Tulla and her group of fisherwomen mapped out a plan to lure the orcs to them then lead them through the forest before retreating to safety.

It was late and many of the fisherwomen were yawning when the gathering was finally concluded. The women left in pairs, much like they had come. Soon only Tilly, Galadwen and Tulla were the only ones left in the lean-to.

"T'morrow when it's over, I'll get Misha ta take ya ta the northern border," Tulla said to Galadwen. "It'd be best that ya are gone before the rest of the island finds out 'bout your gift. My son was right in bein' cautious, especially if things don't go as we've planned."

"I promised Paige that she could see me off," Galadwen replied.

"Aye, she can fit in Misha's canoe," Tulla said. "Now if ya'll excuse me, I must talk to my son before mornin'." With that, she left the lean-to.

"Those two minnows will be sad ta see ya go," Tilly said.

Galadwen smiled at the thought of Paige and Eel. "I'll miss them," she replied.

"Aye," Tilly agreed. "Despite Tulla's warning, there'll be many on this island that'll miss ya too. Those two minnows the most, no doubt. But enough 'bout that, we both need ta get some rest. The bed's made in the second room. Up ya go," Tilly said as she shepherded Galadwen out of the lean-to.

"Thank you, but I'll sleep on a branch at the top of the tree," Galadwen said.

Tilly nodded. "Of course ya will," she said. "Now unless ya want ta be held up by an old woman makin' her way up the ladder, I suggest ya go first."

Galadwen smiled, adjusted her weapons, then started to climb the tree trunk.

"Oh ta be young," Tilly mumbled below as she started to slowly but steadily climb the rope ladder.

"I am nearly one hundred years old Tilly," Galadwen called down to her.

She heard Tilly give a laughing cough in reply.

Finding a nice branch at the top of the tree, Galadwen settled herself down for the night. Closing her eyes to start dreaming, Galadwen spent the whole night checking every possibility she could see of their trap for the following day. After learning of the fisherwomen's plan, she had a better understanding of what she was seeing than when she had looked to the future of the elven army's battle with the orcs. It also helped that there were fewer people involved, so significantly fewer possibilities. It seemed that the fisherwomen's plan would succeed, but there were still too many possibilities for Galadwen's liking where one or more of them would die.

Galadwen woke a little after dawn. The canopy around her was glowing bright gold in the light of the rising sun. The birds in the treetops were singing and the sounds of the village rousing below drifted up to her. Smiling, Galadwen stretched and jumped to her feet. Feeling almost fully recovered, she sent a thought of thanks to the tree. With a desire to welcome the coming day, Galadwen nimbly climbed the remaining branches to the furthest reaches of the tree. Looking out, she saw the sun rising in the east over the dark line of Mirkwood Forest on the horizon. A thick cloud, stretching from the Misty Mountains in the west, hung over Gladden Fields. Its billowing form was lit underneath by the rising sun, casting dark shadows between the soft golden mounds. As the sun rose higher, the mounds of golden cloud shrunk while the shadows grew larger. In no time at all, only a couple of golden mounds remained in the dark and foreboding cloud, and soon those too disappeared.

Trying not to let the foreboding cloud affect her, Galadwen descended the tree at a speed that brought a smile to her face. Landing on the soft earth with a thud, Galadwen barely had time to adjust her weapons before Paige and Eel accosted her.

"Galadwen, ya'll never guess," Eel said as he came running up to her, quickly followed by Paige. "There's gonna be a village meetin' t'day. Everyone's gotta attend. Captain Bray said so. But no one knows what it's 'bout. Captain Bray said the old fisherwomen told him it's a matter of sink or swim. Ma thinks it's 'cause of ya, Galadwen. But she doesn't know if it's good or bad. We've come ta see if Gran'ma Tilly will tell us."

"If I'll tell ya what?" came Tilly's voice from the around the corner of the trunk. Galadwen, Paige and Eel turned to watch as she came walking into view with a heavy basket on one arm. "How 'bout some breakfast first?" she asked them.

"Gran'ma Tilly," Paige exclaimed, running up to the old woman and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "We've already eaten."

"But I'm still hungry," Eel said.

"A growing minnow like ya, of course ya are," Tilly said with a fond smile. "Ya have an appetite to rival our elf friend here." Eel puffed up his chest with pride. "Come on, inside we go," Tilly said as she led them all through the doorway to her lean-to.

While Galadwen tucked into the huge spread of food that Tilly had put out for them, she listened to the conversation between Eel and Tilly. It amazed her at how so much could be said, but at the same time, nothing was actually conveyed.

"Gran'ma Tilly, what's the meetin' 'bout?" Eel asked as he stuffed a strawberry into his mouth.

"Somethin' important I'm sure," Tilly responded.

"Life or death important?" Eel asked.

"Aye, I'd say that it is."

"Well, what's life or death important?" Eel asked.

"What the meetin's 'bout," said Tilly.

"But what's it 'bout?" Eel wined.

"What's what 'bout?" Tilly asked.

"The meetin'?"

"Oh somethin' important," Tilly said with a conspiratorial smile.

"But what's so important?" demanded Eel.

"Many things are important," Tilly replied.

And so round and round it went. Eel was determined to get an answer and Tilly was just as determined to not tell him.

"Give it up Eel," Paige finally interrupted. "She's not gonna tell ya."

Eel poked his tongue out at his sister, but he stopped the endless questions. Instead, he sat there quietly stuffing his mouth with food. Then a mischievous smile spread over his face. Grabbing a handful of strawberries, he shot up from the table.

"I'm gonna find Sissy," he decleared. "T'gether we'll get it out of her Gran'ma." He gave Tilly a cheeky grin before running out the door.

Tilly chuckled to herself. "That boy reminds me so much of his Uncle Jon at that age. No wonder they get on so well."

Just as Galadwen was finishing her meal, there was a knock on the door and Sara entered.

"Ah m'lady," Sara said to Galadwen. "I thought ya might want ta spend some time at my tree. It's looking very green."

Although she was greatly recovered, Galadwen knew she was not yet at full strength, so gratefully accepted. After bidding farewell to Paige and Tilly, she followed Sara out. The sun had risen above the clouds now, casting the island in a gloomy grey. Sara led her to a tree near the centre of the island. Outside the lean-to was a wooden bench against the tree trunk and a fire pit with an empty A-frame for smoking fish over it.

"It's a good spot for watchin' the world go by," Sara said, indicating a wooden bench against the tree trunk outside her lean-to. "Help ya self."

Galadwen took off her weapons and sat on the offered bench. Leaning against the tree trunk, she sent it a thought of greeting. The tree was honoured she had come, and started giving Galadwen it's life force before she had finished her greeting.

"If ya happy enough," Sara said, "I've some work ta be getting' on with."

"Of course," Galadwen replied with a gracious nod. Sara disappeared inside her lean-to and soon emerged with a bundle of fine netting. Galadwen watched as she hooked it onto a rope hanging from her tree and hoisted it up so the top of the net was at head height. Then she started inspecting it. Her nose was nearly touching it as both eyes and fingers traced every inch of the fine netting. Stopping at a hole, Sara pulled a reel of fine thread from her pocket, and with deft hands, repaired the small hole before continuing her inspection.

After a few moments, Galadwen remembered that she too had work to do. Taking the cloth Toron had given her from her satchel, Galadwen unsheathed her sword. A rancid smell hit her first, then to her horror, Galadwen saw that her sword was covered in black orc blood. Remembering Gwennor and their desperate fight with the orcs, Galadwen felt tears coming to her eyes. Protecting the villagers of the Golden Isle had kept her mind preoccupied so she had not been able to think about Gwennor and the elven army. A heaviness settled in her chest as she remembered them now. With a sad sigh, Galadwen turned her attention to her blood coated sword. Starting at the hilt, she wiped the blood away with long firm strokes. The therapeutic action of cleaning her blade helped lift some of the weight from her chest.

Once the sword was clean of blood, Galadwen inspected the blade for any damage. She gave a relieved sigh when she realised that there was none that her eyes could see. Placing it carefully against the trunk of the tree, Galadwen picked up the sheath. The rancid smell of orc blood filled her nose. It was fit for nothing more than burning. Taking out her dagger, Galadwen cut the clean leather straps from the sheath. She would have to go without a sheath for the time being, and just tie the sword to her back. Putting the ruined sheath on the ground far from her clean sword, Galadwen turned to her bow. First, she cleaned the wood back to its glowing silver. Then she used a few drops of the golden liquid on the string. Finally, Galadwen inspected her arrows. Her quiver was empty and Gwennor's quiver contained only thirteen arrows that were as fresh as if they'd just come from the fletcher. But thirteen arrows would not be enough.

"Sara," Galadwen said. The old fisherwoman looked up from her work. The net was hanging high in the tree now, with only a small portion left of the ground.

"Yeah m'lady?" she asked.

"May I light your fire?" Galadwen asked. "I have something that must be burned."

"'Course m'lady," Sara replied. "Kindlin' and wood are behind the hut."

"Thank you," Galadwen said. "And do you know if anyone on the island has any arrows that I may trade for? I am very low."

"Ah," Sara said as she straightened out a crick in her neck. "Our blacksmith floated downriver 'bout three years ago. So the few archers we have make their own arrows. They're not exactly up ta a standard ya are used ta. But I heard that one of the archers, Tilly's boy Jon, retrieved ya arrows from the strawberry field. There may be some that might still fly true. I'll take ya ta see him once I'm done."

"Thank you," Galadwen said. As Sara turned back to her net, Galadwen set about making a fire. She collected some kindling and wood from the neatly stacked piles behind the lean-to and arranged them in the firepit as Toron had shown her. Striking a spark with her flint, Galadwen smiled as the tinder caught alight and the flames quickly grew into a crackling fire. She waited a few moments for it to really take hold, then dropped the ruined sheath in the firepit. Galadwen stepped back as red sparks flew up, followed by a column of putrid black smoke. It billowed up through the A-frame and into the gold-green leaves of the canopy above.

"What ya burning?" Sara asked, looking up at the black smoke rising through the canopy of her tree.

"My sheath, it was full of orc blood," Galadwen said.

"Ah," Sara said nodding with understanding. "Ya should've said. We've got a firepit on the leeward side of the island for burnin' anythin' nasty like that."

"I am sorry about your canopy. I did not know orc blood would do that."

"No matter, the seasons are changin' so the smell won't stay for long," Sara replied. "Come, help me bring the net in then we'll go see Jon."

Galadwen helped Sara lower and fold up the net before the old fisherwoman led her across the island to yet another tree. They bypassed the door to the lean-to and skirted around the small building. The roof of the lean-to had been extended out the back to cover a small work area. There, a man sat, hunched over a table. Sara and Galadwen stopped outside the lean-to and watched as the man worked with the greatest of care. His long fingers delicately held fletching as he slowly slid it into place in the groove on the end of an arrow shaft.

As soon as it was in place, Sara gave a loud knock on the timber post. The man jumped in surprise, then smiled when he saw who it was.

"Ah Sara, ya old catfish. Ya scared the shit outta me," he said, standing up and giving her a warm embrace. He was tall and willowy like Tilly, with a hint of the same smile lines.

Sara patted his back fondly and laughed. "Tilly never could stop ya from swearin'," she said.

The man snorted in amusement before looking to Galadwen. "Wow see here," he said with a smile. "Ya must be the elf, or I'm a spotted toad."

"Jon this is our elf friend Galadwen," Sara said. "M'lady, this here is Tilly's boy Jon."

"You worked for the wizard and tricked the orcs?" Galadwen asked.

"Been talkin' ta Eel I see," Jon said with a smile. "But working for the wizard is not all I'm known for. Come, ya'll appreciate this." Taking the arrow from his work table, he gestured for Galadwen to follow him to a strange wooden structure built up against the tree trunk. It had a tank at the top, that fed into a sloping trough, with a barrel of water at the bottom.

"Hold this please," Jon said, passing Galadwen the arrow. She frowned at it. The arrow was nothing like any she had seen before. There was no arrowhead, instead, there was what looked like an eyelet carved from bone fixed to the end. And the fletching was all wrong. Instead of four half feathers at the end of the arrow, this one only had two. But what was even more strange was that they curved around the shaft. While Galadwen was examining the arrow, Jon filled a bucket of water from the barrel and taking it to the other end of the structure, hoisted it up and poured the water into the holding tank.

Returning to Galadwen, Jon took the arrow back and tied a fine piece of fishing twine to the eyelet. The other end of the twine was tied to the top of the water trough. Pulling the twine tight, Jon put the arrow into the trough.

"Watch the arrow closely," Jon said as he opened the tank spigot.

Water poured out, filling the trough. In the steady current of water, the arrow was lifted off the bottom of the trough, and it began to spin. Held in place by the fishing twine, the arrow spun faster and faster in the flowing water. As the tank emptied and the current turned into a trickle, the arrow slowed and returned to its resting spot on the bottom of the trough.

Galadwen looked up at Jon in amazement. "I've been workin' on it for months," he said proudly. "I watched the way birds, fish and plants move, and realised that the way they move through the water is just a slower way ta how they move through the air. So I made this ta see how my arrows move, and I've been playin' around with ways ta make them fly straighter. The curved fletching makes it spin. The faster it spins, the straighter it goes, even with a slightly bent shaft, or an uneven head. We've not too much trouble with bent shafts, but decent arrowheads are hard ta come by. But this'll mean that doesn't matter. Our arrows 'ill still fly true."

"That is extraordinary," Galadwen said, picking up the arrow to study the fletching again.

Jon beamed with pleasure. But before he could tell Galadwen more about his discoveries, Sara spoke.

"As much as we all admire ya inventions Jon, the afternoon is comin' on and we've somewhere ta be," she said.

"Ahhh," Jon said nodding with understanding. "Bray asked me ta come along this afternoon for backup. I guess ya must be here ta get ya arrows back." He gestured for Galadwen and Sara to follow him back to the work area. He pulled out a couple of bundles of arrows from a wooden chest and placed them on the table. "I'll be sad ta see 'em go. They fly better than any I've made." He gestured to the first bundle. "There's three and two dozen in here that are good as new. This other bundle has four dozen arrows, a quiver full, that I've salvaged and repaired from your arrows. Not perfect, but they'll fly better than any others on the island."

"I have just one quiver now, so can only carry four dozen," Galadwen said, unslinging Gwennor's nearly empty quiver. "I will take half of each and you may keep the rest."

Jon gave her a warm smile then spilt the bundles of arrows. Galadwen filled her quiver and had barely enough time to thank Jon before Sara was tugging at her elbow.

"We've gotta get in ta position, m'lady," Sara said as she guided Galadwen away from Jon's tree. "We don't want ta miss out on all the fun."

As Sara almost dragged her off, Galadwen turned and gave Jon an apologetic smile. She saw him give a shrug of understanding before she lost sight of him around the tree.

Sara led her back to the water's edge near the stump where she had sat with Gandalf. Now, there was raft pulled up on the shore and Tilly was loading a large heavy looking net onto the middle of it.

"M'lady," Tilly said to Galadwen once she had the net positioned to her satisfaction. "There's a basket next ta the stump there. Fill ya satchel with its contents. Even with ya apatite, it'll keep ya goin' for a few days."

Galadwen had hardly touched the lambas bread that Toron had packed in her satchel a lifetime ago. She added as many dried fish and buns from the basket that would fit, then returned to the raft. Galadwen watched, as with practised hands, the two women stood either side of the raft and tossed a light rope over the net. Between each toss, the rope was hooked around the raft with such a fluid movement, Galadwen almost missed seeing it. There was an air of excitement about the women as they worked.

When they were done, Galadwen helped them push the raft into the water, then sat on the front, next to Sara. Taking the offered paddle, Galadwen helped the fisherwomen paddled out into the swampy forest.

No sooner had they entered the forest and Tilly started to sing. Galadwen recognised it as one of the fishing songs sung the day before. Sara picked up the song in the second verse, and the two fisherwomen sang as if they had no care in the world beyond fishing. Galadwen wanted to sing with them, but she could not shift the feeling of unease from her shoulders as she scanned the forest around them.

It wasn't long until, above the sound of Tilly and Sara's singing, Galadwen heard more singing. They came around a bend in the swampy channel to see a clearing in the forest and two other fishing rafts tied to the bank up ahead. Before they reached the clearing, Tilly steered their raft towards the forest bank.

"This is ya stop," Sara said to Galadwen. "We don't want ya scarin' the orcs away, so stay hidden in the forest 'til they come. Then ya can cover our retreat. Some of us'll leave by water, while a few will lead the orcs through the forest past ya. The Captain has got some scouts out, so when ya hear the blackbird warning call, be ready. The orcs'll be on their way."

As soon as Galadwen had unsteadily climbed off the raft, Tilly pushed it back out into the channel and the two women picked up their merry song. Galadwen found a position hidden on the forest's edge, with a clear view of the fisherwomen and the open field beyond. She readied her bow and waited.

While scanning the field, intently listening for any unnatural sounds from the forest behind her, and talking to the tree she leaned against, Galadwen also kept an eye on the fisherwomen. There were a dozen women, all singing loudly while they worked at nets on the edge of the field. Galadwen watched two fisherwomen help Tilly and Sara remove the net off their raft then steadily spread it out between them over the grassy field. Once it was spread to their satisfaction, the four fisherwomen slowly walked up and down it, lifting it up in places to inspect. The other eight fisherwomen were doing the same on other nets. They still sang as they worked, but it seemed more hesitant now. Not as loud and with long pauses between songs. The wait was affecting them all, but Galadwen even more so. She wanted to move about, to pace her anxiousness away. Her hands were slick with sweat and her eyes nervously flicked about, scared to settle on one thing for too long for fear she would miss something. Her ears strained to hear any unnatural noises or blackbird calls. Galadwen fought the growing urge to use her lifeforce to heighten her senses. She refused to be so weak as to waste the poplar trees' gifted lifeforce to merely ease her own fears. But the building tension of waiting was wearing on her. She yearned to do something.

When Galadwen could take the waiting no longer, she stepped out from behind the tree with the intention to go looking for the orcs. But after only two steps, she froze at the sound of a blackbird call. Not believing her ears, Galadwen stood as still as a statue while she strained her ears, listening. The fisherwomen's song faltered as they too listened for confirmation. After a long breath, there was another blackbird call, then another. With nervous excitement, Galadwen jumped back behind her tree. Between scanning the edge of the field, Galadwen watched the fisherwomen move with deliberately casual steps as they started up another song. Tulla and an old fisherwoman moved to the rafts. To Galadwen's eyes, the rest of the fisherwomen seemed to split into two groups. While still inspecting the nets, Tilly's group moved towards the water, and Sara's group moved towards the open field. The blackbird warning calls continued until one suddenly cut off mid-call. All pretence at steady work stopped as every eye turned towards the far side of the field.

Galadwen held her breath as she scanned the edge of the forest. Four orcs came crashing out through the trees on the far side of the field. For a long moment, the orcs and the old women just stared at each other. Then one of the orcs blew a horn. At the sound, the fisherwomen started moving again. With arms and legs going, they seemed to frantically retreat without actually moving anywhere fast. It wasn't until the two scores of orcs swarmed onto the far side of the field did the fisherwomen start the proper retreat. Tilly's group ran for the three rafts, while Sara's group hastily made for the forest a dozen yards to Galadwen's right. The orcs surged across the field towards the retreating fisherwomen. Galadwen raised her bow, ready to shoot. She hesitated, unsure which of the forty orcs she should shoot. Memories of the possible futures swarmed her mind and she could not decide what was the best course of action.

Then one of the fisherwomen climbing onto a raft cried out in pain. Galadwen spared a glance to see a black arrow protruding from her back as she fell into the swampy water. Horror and anger in equal measures filled Galadwen as she turned back to the oncoming orcs and searched for the orc archer. Finding one, she looked to the future and let loose her arrow. Without pause, she found the next orc archer and let loose another arrow. Her third arrow found another orc, but not before he too let loose an arrow. Another cry from a fisherwoman on the rafts told her it had found a mark. But Galadwen did not let herself think about it. She focused on finding the rest of the orc archers.

In mere moments, half a dozen orc archers were dead and Galadwen could see no more. She turned her attention back to the horde of orcs, with less than half the field now separating the women and the orcs. Some of the orcs were veering towards the rafts, but most were after the easier targets of the six fisherwomen running towards the forest. With Sara in the lead, they were only yards from the relative safety of the forest. Then the fisherwoman half a step behind Sara cried out in pain as she fell heavily to the ground. Galadwen looked on as fear settled in her stomach. She remembered seeing this in her dreams. Sara and another helped the fallen fisherwoman to her feet while the rest of the group reached the forest. Galadwen looked towards the orcs and the three fisherwomen frantically hobbled towards the forest. As she had seen in her dreams, some of the orcs were pulling javelins from their backs. Pushing down her fear, Galadwen loosed her arrows on the orcs with grim determination. The memory of seeing these women killed by javelins in so many possibilities of this day pushed Galadwen to loose her arrows faster than she had ever done before. She had already failed too many times, she could not fail again. The javelin carrying orcs fell in quick succession. Most, before they could let fly a javelin. The absence of cries from the three fisherwomen told Galadwen that the few javelins that had been thrown had missed their marks.

With all the javelin carrying orcs downed, Galadwen spared a glance towards the fisherwomen. Sara and the two other fisherwomen had disappeared into the relative safety of the forest, and the rafts were now paddling back down the channel, beyond the reach of the orcs. The horde charging towards the forest was now close enough to make the ground beneath Galadwen's feet shudder. With the fisherwomen out of immediate danger, Galadwen stopped loosing her arrows, least the whole horde come down on her instead of following the fisherwomen into the forest. Galadwen watched from her hiding place as most of the orcs stormed into the forest. Some passed within a few yards of Galadwen, but in their frenzied charge, they did not see or smell her.

With bated breath, Galadwen listened to the crashing charge of the orcs as they disappeared into the forest. Now it was the forest's turn. Galadwen's fingers tingled with nervous anticipation as she wondered if the forest would defeat the orcs. The future of the village depended on this one moment. But the moment seemed to stretch on as the sounds of the orcs grew fainter.

"Now," Galadwen whispered, urging the forest to act.

Suddenly the sound of the orc stampede was punctured with shouts of surprise and cries of pain. It lasted only a couple of breaths, and then there was silence.

Smiling, Galadwen breathed a sigh of relief. The villagers were safe.

A cry of surprise brought Galadwen's attention back to the handful of orcs who had gone after the women on the rafts. Galadwen actually laughed when she saw the orcs. They were caught in the nets that had been so carefully laid out by the fisherwomen. Thrashing about like fish out of water, the orcs fought to free themselves but were only succeeding in getting more tangled. As she watched, one of the orcs was hit through the eye with an arrow. Looking in the direction it had come from, Galadwen saw Captain Bray, Jon and two other men striding across the field. As they walked, Jon loosed arrows at the orcs. He was a good shot. Better than Galadwen if she did not use her gift.

Galadwen walked out to meet them.

"Where're the rest of the orcs?" the captain asked as Galadwen approached them.

"Gone," Galadwen said with a smile. "The forest has taken care of them."

"Ya saw it?" Captain Bray asked.

"I heard it," Galadwen replied.

The captain grunted in acknowledgement. "I think I'll check for myself," he said before sharing a look with the two other men and the three of them strode off towards the forest.

Meanwhile, Jon was retrieving his arrows from the now-dead orcs that were caught in the nets. Galadwen picked her way over the nets to help him. It was a grim messy business dislodging the arrows from the orc corpses. Galadwen gritted her teeth against the smells, sounds, and gore that accosted her senses. Just as the last of Jon's arrows had been retrieved, they noticed the three rafts returning. The fisherwomen paddled in mournful silence. It reminded Galadwen of the woman she had seen fall into the water. Hurrying over to the water's edge, Galadwen saw the fisherwoman floating face down with a black arrow protruding from her back. Removing her weapons and satchel, Galadwen waded into the water to retrieve her. As Galadwen pulled the cold pale body from the dark water, the rafts reached the bank. A grief-stricken cry filled the air. Galadwen turned to see Jon bent over someone on the raft.

Upon hearing Jon's cry, Galadwen instantly remembered it from her dreams. Sorrow blurred her vision. Her dream of Tilly's last dying breaths filled Galadwen's mind's eye and she knew that dream was now a reality. Not able to make herself watch the women die again, Galadwen gently laid the dead fisherwomen on the dry bank. She respectfully straightened the woman's clothes and wiped the hair from her face. She could have been asleep, if not for the arrow protruding from her back.

Galadwen jumped in surprise at the touch of a hand on her shoulder. She had been so focused on her work, she did not hear Tulla approach.

"Ya have done right by Dell here," Tulla said in a sad but gentle voice. "There's no more ya can do for her. Come, Tilly want's ta speak ta ya."

"I do not think I can," Galadwen replied, bowing her head.

"Ya won't ignore a dying woman's wish," Tulla said in a voice as firm as her grip now was on Galadwen's shoulder.

Closing her eyes, Galadwen took a deep breath, trying to push away the debilitating emotions that were swamping her. She would not let herself fail Tilly a second time.

Standing, Galadwen followed Tulla to the raft. The fisherwomen crowding around Tilly opened their ranks to let Galadwen through.

Lying on the raft, Tilly's head rested in her son's lap. Jon's unchecked tears gently fell into her grey streaked hair as his shoulders shook with silent sobs. A cloak had been laid over Tilly but it did little to hide the wound. A dark patch of blood from her lower torso was spreading over the centre of the cloak, but it was the smell that confirmed the fatal wound. Galadwen knew little of healing, but even she knew that was the smell of death. The wound could be mended, but even the greatest healers in Lothlorien could not prevent a terrible sickness taking victims as often as not. Out here, with no healers to speak of, it was sure to be fatal. It seemed the women around her knew that and thought it better to die from the wound than the sickness.

Tilly reached a shaking hand out to Galadwen. Taking it, Galadwen felt the strength still in the fisherwoman.

"Thank ya," Tilly said in a voice rough with pain.

"For what?" Galadwen asked, bemused by what the dying woman could be thankful for.

"Never've we been attacked by so many and the toll's been so light."

"It is still too high for me," Galadwen replied.

Tilly squeezed her hand. "Don't mourn me m'lady. It's my time ta pay the toll and I do so gladly. For, I die knowing that our people are safer than they've been for many years. Thanks ta ya, all my minnows have a chance ta grow ta adulthood." Tilly coughed and her eyes glazed over with pain. "I think it's time I got back ta say goodbye ta my minnows," she said when the worse of the pain had passed.

There was a sudden flurry of action as the fisherwomen prepared to leave. While they worked, Tulla took Galadwen by the arm and led her away from the action.

"Things went better than we expected," Tulla said. "It'll be safe for ya ta come back to the Golden Isle with us."

"Thank you, but I must collect my arrows and then leave. Time is getting short," Galadwen replied.

Tulla nodded. "Misha'll come get ya before dusk and drop ya at the northern edge of Gladden Fields," Tulla said. "I'm not sure Paige'll see ya off, all things considering," she said with a nod towards Tilly.

"I understand," Galadwen replied. "Could you give my condolences to her and Eel?"

"Aye," Tulla said. Then to Galadwen's surprise, Tulla gave her a tight warm embrace. "Ya have our thanks," Tulla said when she released Galadwen. "May ya river be calm, the fish obliging, and the sun shining." With that farewell, Tulla returned to the waiting rafts. Galadwen watched as the fisherwomen pushed off from the bank and paddled back towards the Golden Isle. She watched the departing rafts until they disappeared around a bend in the channel. With a heavy heart, Galadwen turned to the gruesome task of retrieving her arrows.

To prevent her mind dwelling on dark thoughts while she worked, Galadwen focused on her road ahead. Toron had said it was three day's walk from Gladden Fields to the old ford, then another two to the skin changer's lands. Remembering Toron, she thought about how she had changed since leaving Lothlorien. Although, she had changed much in those weeks that Toron had prepared her for this journey. In the days since she had left Lothlorien, Galadwen knew she had undertaken an even greater change. She had never been a fun, light-hearted elfling, even before discovering her gift. Despite all the death she had seen through her dreaming, Galadwen now knew she had still retained some innocence. But now, after facing the Dark Lord and experiencing so much loss and death for herself, that innocence was gone forever. A part of her soul had been marked by what she had experienced. Galadwen knew without a doubt that she would carry those scares with her for all eternity. But that thought pleased her, for she did not want to forget any of it. Especially those that had died for or because of her.

With her mind focused inward, Galadwen was able to complete the unpleasant task of retrieving her arrows with very little disgust. Most were still in excellent condition, with some only slightly damaged, and only one beyond repair. As dusk started approaching, Galadwen carefully cleaned the arrows in the channel before putting them back in the quiver. Then she found a place to sit, leaning against a tree on the edge of the forest. While Galadwen waited for Misha, she tended to her bow.

Dusk was turning to night by the time Galadwen heard the sound of paddles in the water. She stood and approached the river bank. Lit by a torch protruding from the prow, was Misha's canoe gliding along the channel. To Galadwen's surprise, she could see the forlorn forms of Paige and Eel in the canoe with Misha.

As Misha pulled the canoe up to the bank, Eel leapt out and clung to Galadwen with fervour.

"Don't leave," he begged Galadwen. "I don't want anyone else ta leave."

"I must," Galadwen replied as she stroked his ash coloured hair.

"It's alright Eel," Paige said, putting a comforting arm around her brother. "Galadwen's goin' upriver, not down. There's a difference."

Galadwen shared a look with Paige, then opened her arms for the girl to join her brother in their embrace.

"I am so sorry about your Gran'ma Tilly," Galadwen whispered to them both. "You were the brightest stars in her sky. She was immensely proud of you, and so am I. You are both so kind and brave."

All too soon, Misha was interrupting them. "We need ta get movin'," she said. "I promised ya Ma that I'd have ya back before the moon rises and Galadwen has a long walk ahead of her."

"Ya goin' ta walk t'night?" Eel asked Galadwen as they all climbed into the canoe.

"Yes," Galadwen replied. "I will keep walking for five nights and five days, stopping only to eat and drink."

"But won't ya get tired?" Eel asked.

"I expect that I will. But it might not be safe to stop for very long. I will only stop to rest if I can find a safe place to do so."

"Once, I stayed up all night," Eel said proudly.

"But then ya fell asleep at noon and slept right through ta breakfast the next day," Paige said.

Eel nodded solemnly. "I couldn't stay up for five nights and five days, but maybe when I'm older."

In the brief pause that followed, above the quiet sounds of Misha's paddle stroking through the water, Galadwen could hear the forest. Creaking and groaning of the moving trees filled the still night air. The dark forest around them flickering orange by the light of the torch was reflected in the calm waters of the channel.

"How will ya see where ya goin' at night?" Eel asked.

Despite the events of the day, Galadwen felt herself being filled with contentment as she gladly answered Eel's endless questions.

All too soon, their canoe emerged from the forest onto an open stretch of calm water. Misha paddled them across it and pulled up to a sandy shore. They all disembarked, and Misha pulled the canoe half out of the water. Galadwen awkwardly stood on the shore, knowing she should say goodbye, but struggling to find the words.

"I have somethin' for ya," Misha said, pulling a small bundle from her pocket. "It's from Ma. Pa gave it ta her many years ago, but she want's ya ta have it so ya know ya'll always have a home here."

Galadwen opened the bundle to see a small metal pendant the shape of a poplar leaf on a leather cord. The pendant had been smithed from iron, and by eleven standards it was very crude. But Galadwen loved it. She lifted the cord over her head and tucked the pendant under her cloak.

"Thank you, Misha," Galadwen said, feeling her eyes misting with gratitude. "And thank Tulla for me."

Misha took both of Galadwen's hands in hers and gave them a warm squeeze before releasing them. "Thank you, m'lady," she said.

"We didn't get ya anythin'" Eel said dejectedly.

Galadwen smiled down at the boy. He would never know or understand how much she owed him. He had saved her as much as she had saved him. "I do not need any gifts except your friendship," Galadwen replied as she kneeled down to look Eel in the eyes.

"Ya have that!" Eel exclaimed, and he threw his arms around Galadwen.

"Then it will be one of my greatest treasures," Galadwen replied as she returned the boy's embrace.

"And mine," Paige added.

"And your's," Galadwen replied with a warm smile before the three of them embraced one last time.

Galadwen rose reluctantly and watched as the children climbed back into the canoe. Misha pushed it out into the water before jumping in the back. Galadwen watched the canoe glide into the forest, then she turned and adjusted her weapons and satchel before starting her long walk north.


End file.
